


Heart With No Companion

by yumi_michiyo



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Murder, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Insanity, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Miscarriage, Non-Consensual, Sexual Abuse, Somnophilia, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-23 02:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3751819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumi_michiyo/pseuds/yumi_michiyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a conniving man who gets due punishment for his sins, the tragic tale of a fragile woman who fell too far and was shattered beyond repair, and the destruction they left in their wake. A oneshot in four parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calenheniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calenheniel/gifts).



> Conceptualized as a prequel to [calenheniel](calenheniel.tumblr.com)'s drabble [Broken](http://calenheniel.tumblr.com/post/91948958298/broken-a-drabble-for-helsa-week-day-4).
> 
> After more than a year in progress and several title changes, the entire thing is complete, and will be posted in parts.

The people of Arendelle were happy to have some good luck at last – what with the eternal winter blanketing young Queen Elsa’s coronation, her marriage to some minor foreign prince – rumours said he had been previously engaged to the Princess Anna, but no one knew it for sure, what with the chaos of the Queen's winter – the princess’ subsequent elopement with some commoner, and finally Queen Elsa’s abdication in favour of her sister due to grave illness.

Queen Anna of Arendelle had only wielded the scepter and orb for a few years, but she ruled with wisdom and grace far beyond her years.

_‘Tis to be expected from a woman who conjures ice and snow; bad things are bound to happen_ , said the men in hushed voices over their tools. _She was a fine queen, despite it all, and what became of her was a tragedy.  
_

Princess Anna had run away to get married for love because her suitor was a common man, an ice harvester. It was an incredibly romantic tale which was popular even in neighbouring kingdoms, especially among the young women. While the details varied from storyteller to storyteller, they generally involved an escape under the cover of night, the young couple running into the forests to carve out a life for themselves away from the scandal of their incompatible social statuses.

Despite Princess Anna having renounced her birthright, Queen Elsa had forgiven her, and the then-King Consort, Prince Hans, had personally brought the wayward princess home. The ice harvester was made a prince, and he now ruled by the Queen's side.

It was a good thing the sisters had reconciled, for when the queen fell ill, she had passed her throne to Princess Anna. Instead of reigning with his sister-in-law as was his right - and to the disappointment of the councillors as he was an able ruler - Prince Hans had given up his title as well to remain at his wife's side.

Soon after the new queen took the throne, the royal couple was blessed with the birth of a daughter, the Princess Lise.

With lovely, caring Queen Anna at the head of the kingdom, Arendelle's fortunes changed for the better; despite being of the same blood as the Snow Queen – the new name that Queen Elsa became increasingly known by. The new prince – he insisted on simply being a prince instead of king-consort because of his low birth – was a rugged man of humble origins, well-placed to understand the people’s concerns. Both monarchs were often seen among their people, unlike the distant former queen.

_Aye, our Queen is a wonderful lass_ , nodded the matrons as they bent over their needlework. _In spite of her tender age and womanhood, she has brought prosperity to Arendelle._ They fondly remembered the then-Princess’ visits to their homes, the genuine warmth and affection she showed them, and how she remembered their children's names.

They spared few thoughts for the Snow Queen, and fewer still for her husband. Despite his unpopularity with the people because of the scandal during the former queen’s coronation and his subsequent dizzying rise, Prince Hans had won quite a few supporters with his decision to abdicate the throne to spend his days caring for his poor young wife.

They were rarely seen in public; Princess Elsa being too ill to be out of doors, and Prince Hans in semi-seclusion with her.

_The Queen gives us chocolate and the Prince takes us for rides in his sled_ , giggled the children as they played in the streets. _Queen Anna is the best queen._

Prince Hans was inseparable from his wife, both when she was queen and even now. On the rare occasion that the entire royal family attended a public event – save for the fragile former queen, of course – he appeared wan and gaunt, his formerly rich auburn hair prematurely grey.

_Worn to a shadow of his former self, sick with worry for his beloved wife_ , sighed the young girls over their chores. _If only I could marry a man like that._

Unlike Prince Kristoff, the former king-consort had been raised and educated as a member of nobility. It was Prince Hans who greeted visiting dignitaries and presided over balls, freeing Queen Anna to mingle as was the feisty young woman’s preference.

_Every inch the nobleman he is_ , murmured the statesmen and diplomats among themselves, _it is a pity he did not remain king – not to say that Her Majesty Queen Anna is not a fine queen, but still. A pity._

What the people of Arendelle saw, of course, was radically different from the truth.


	2. The Seduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want a lover  
> I'll do anything you ask me to  
> And if you want another kind of love  
> I'll wear a mask for you  
> If you want a partner  
> Take my hand  
> Or if you want to strike me down in anger  
> Here I stand  
> I'm your man
> 
>  _I’m Your Man_ \- Leonard Cohen

There was a ripple of excitement outside his makeshift prison as he slumped on the hard wooden bench, waiting to set sail. Hans frowned deeply, knowing better than to hope.

Footsteps thudded on the planks. He knew that sound.

Elsa approached, her face carved from ice. A tempest of emotion raged in the cold stare she leveled at him.

"Why?"

He glanced around his temporary prison, down at himself, and finally at her. A mocking smile spread over his face. "Why not?"

Anger touched her features, and the wind picked up. “You –  insufferable! Unrepentant, _evil_ – ”

“Repent? Me? It was a great gamble, and I’m only sorry it didn’t play out the way I had intended.” Very calmly, he folded his hands in his lap and waited. “Kill me now then, Your Majesty,” he said, green-gold eyes sparkling with malice, “it’s easy. These wooden bars won’t stand a chance against your ice, and I won't resist. How shall you do it? An icicle through the heart? Push me into the water locked in an icy cage? Or – ” he dropped his voice conspiratorially, “– freeze my heart?”

She made a choked sound, and ice gripped the wooden lattice, biting deep into the grain. He flinched, but hid his sudden fear well. The queen made a quick gesture, and the ice did her bidding; the door was torn away, and Hans grunted as the ice encircled him. “You underestimate me,” she hissed, her voice dangerously cold. “I am no longer alone or afraid. You cannot hurt me.”

Hans forced a smile. The edges of the ice were sharp, and he knew he was bleeding in places where it had sliced through his clothes. “So confident, Queen Elsa. I remember a time when you ran like a terrified animal from everything.”

“You are nothing to me, anymore.”

“That’s a pity; for me, you were preferable to Anna, right from the beginning.”

“Monster.”

The ice retreated all at once, and he hit the floor hard. The pain went unnoticed though; he latched on to Elsa’s words, his mind formulating a response.

“Wait, anymore? My dear queen, are you saying I mattered to you once?”

The strong facade began to crack around the edges. She bit her lip, looking uncertain for a moment. “Perhaps,” she said quickly, too honestly. “You _did_ propose to my sister - as sudden as it was - and I would have been happy for her. Before you exposed yourself for what you really are.”

“And what if I were to tell you it isn’t all there is to me?” He grinned toothily. “You trusted me – both of you – and who’s to say I’m still not that man?”

Hans could see the doubt in her eyes cloud them over, and then disperse like a summer storm. She lifted her chin, staring down at him, a grimace of disgust on her face. “You made your choices, and that is who you are. I’ve heard enough of your lies and your games.”

“As you wish, my queen. But are they really, now?” Hans leaned back, deliberately relaxed in her presence, and saw her bristle. “How would you know? Are you an expert on people? You’ve spent your formative years socializing, have you?”

Elsa started to walk away. His laughter followed her a few steps, and then died abruptly; she had whirled around, closing the distance between them quickly, and slapped him hard. His head rocked to the side; he tasted blood where he’d inadvertently bitten his tongue. Hans stared up at her, still with that mocking smile. Elsa drew her hand back, fierce glee in her expression as she watched his cheek redden. “Perhaps now,” she said, “you’ll shut up.”

He refused to grant her even that smallest concession; as he touched his cheek, his eyes burned into hers. “If you believe that to be so, you have a lot to learn about me, Queen Elsa,” he said thickly.

He remained silent as she spun on her heel and left; and yet, she could have sworn that his low, mocking laughter rang in her ears.

 

* * *

 

They moved him to different quarters on the pretext of repairing his cell; hours turned into days, and Hans grew complacent.

“She’s not letting me go, isn’t she?” he asked the nervous-looking sailor that brought him his bread and water.

"I-I wouldn’t know, Your Highness.”

“Oh please, spare me the honorifics.” He waved a hand lazily. “As much as I appreciate it, I’m sure you know that I am to be stripped of my titles for committing treason?”

“I-no, sir.” The man ducked out, and Hans sighed. Perhaps he would have to bully this boy to hysterics so he could get a more intelligent man to bring his meals.

 

* * *

 

Much to his delight, the queen herself came to pay him a visit in his new cell. She was all righteous anger again, her body taut with barely suppressed fury, and a loathing to match.

 _She should have been a Fire Queen_ , he mused as her gaze raked over him. But aloud he said: “A good morrow to you, Queen Elsa  –  I’m not sure if it be night or day here. What brings Your Majesty to my humble cell?”

She hesitated – he caught the telltale signs, before answering him: “You won’t be returning to the Southern Isles,” she said brusquely. “You are to be held here in Arendelle in my custody indefinitely.”

"I'm staying, then? What possessed you to make such a decision?" Hans remarked, arching an eyebrow. “I know my brothers wouldn’t pass up the chance to punish me for my crimes that easily. Are you going to deprive them of that pleasure, hmm?”

"I don't know what would happen should you be released back to your kingdom." She took a long, calming breath, letting the temperature of their surroundings rise to the norm. "You might even be freed."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"Yes," she said determinedly.

“Well then,” he drawled, “don’t let me keep you from your business. Carry on, while I’m imprisoned  –  but bear in mind, Queen Elsa, that you can't keep me here indefinitely without a reason. You're aware of that, I presume?"

"Naturally," she answered, despite the little quaver in her voice. “I’ve sent a letter to the Southern Isles.”

“You might as well send some money. You’re in luck; a thirteenth prince doesn’t cost much.”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Are you suggesting I… _buy_ you?”

Hans shrugged. “Why not? You want to keep me here, don’t you? I’m just suggesting a way to make the transaction clean.”

“Do you honestly think your family would sell you off?” The horror in her voice was entertaining to listen to.

“Sure. One less prince to compete for kingdoms, what’s more a disgraced prince who tried to kill a queen and princess, and failed. I’m worth less than dirt right now.” Hans laughed suddenly. “You know, they might even send back a letter thanking you for the trouble, and suggest you quietly do away with me when you grow tired of having me around.”

Elsa recoiled bodily.

"What, does the idea displease you? Then what have you got in mind for me?"

"Do you always talk in questions?" Her composure was slowly coming back to her.

"Only when there are no answers forthcoming."

She waved her hand and conjured a chair of ice to seat herself. Hans’ eyes were drawn to her dress and the way it clung to her skin. "Answers, then," she commanded.

“Answers?” he echoed incredulously. “You want answers? To what?”

He received a hard stare. “Is that too difficult a concept for you? I want answers for everything you've done.” Elsa's gaze slid away. "You could have killed me. You could have taken everything for yourself, but you didn't."

“I see. I only have your best wishes at heart, Your Majesty, and I feel that the answers might be too much for you.”

“Such a thoughtful gesture, from one who certainly didn’t have a problem with attempting to murder me and my sister for the sake of your ambitions.”

Hans conceded the point with a sharp nod, already growing a little tired of her tendency to bring it up, like a tenacious dog with a favorite bone. “When it interferes with my own agenda, I look to myself first. This much I’ll grant you.” He shifted a little closer, enjoying the tiny involuntary jerk she gave. “Would you like the answers then, my queen? Ask away, and I’ll do my best to… _satisfy_ ,” he glanced at her legs, and the expanse that was revealed when she had sat down, “your curiosity.”

“Answers, yes. But I wonder if they’re also lies.” Elsa had noticed, but apart from a furious blush, she was unwilling to submit to him. Her hands balled into tight fists on her knees.

He shrugged. “Who can know for sure?”

This remark earned him a calculated look, cold in its appraisal. It chilled him more than her ice ever had. But Hans could see the curiosity in her eyes, warring with her rational judgement.

He waited.

“Tell me,” said Elsa at last, “why you didn’t just kill me on the North Mountain.”

“Oh, is that all you wanted to know?” he laughed. “That’s easy.” Hans leaned forward, his face becoming serious. “It would have been convenient, I’ll admit, but I just couldn’t bring myself to end you.”

“So the monster has a heart,” she said immediately, misinterpreting his answer.

Hans shook his head. “It was convenient, that was all. But a crown was riding on it; I couldn’t just let an accident take you. I had to orchestrate a motive, a compelling reason for Arendelle to turn its back on their queen.”

“Did you not think there would be distant cousins? People with blood ties to you, that would stand to inherit Arendelle’s throne should the direct lineage of the royal family come to an end? I was acting Regent, to be sure, but only in the extraordinary circumstances of the queen’s revelation and the princess’ folly. If you were to be killed, and Anna were to freeze to death on the same day, I would still be merely an acting regent. My ticket into the royal family and line of succession would be dead, after all. I'd just twiddle my thumbs and keep the throne warm until the closest blood relative came to claim it.” Hans bared his teeth. “Trust me, if I had anticipated dear Anna being that easy to woo, she would have been wedded and bedded before the night was over. She’s gullible enough for that.”

Elsa made as if she would say something when he mentioned Anna, but remained silent; a twitching muscle in her jaw told him, however, her patience was wearing thin.

“No, I had to shatter Arendelle’s faith in their royals and their blood; at the same time, I also had to present myself as the man who would lead the kingdom out of those dark times their queen had plunged them into. I would rescue the mad queen who froze the kingdom and killed her sister, and despite my efforts to reason with her, she broke free. With a heavy heart, I would then be forced to execute her for the crimes she had committed.”

Her eyes were wide with horror. “Enough,” she muttered, and then repeated herself when her voice broke on the first syllable. “I won’t hear anymore.”

“That was just one answer. I believe you wanted more? You did ask for answers, Your Majesty, and I am happy to provide them.”

“No.”

“I could tell you so much more. I could tell you the plans I had for you, if I had been inclined not to let you escape. I had such ideas for Anna as my trophy wife – if she survived your attempt on her life, of course. Her survival was definitely the preferable outcome. Despicable as you think I am, my depravity doesn’t extend to dead girls.”

She stumbled from the cell, hand clamped to her mouth, and he took satisfaction from the sounds of retching he could still hear.

 

* * *

 

The door clicked open, and he turned his head towards it. He arched an eyebrow on seeing his visitor.

“Anna. How lovely to see you again.” His eyes trailed up and down the length of her body, and he took great care to leer over the swell of her bust, knowing she was watching him.

When he finally lifted his gaze to hers, her teal eyes were stormy. “Hans,” she said tonelessly.

“To what do I owe this visit?”

“What did you say to Elsa?”

The other eyebrow rose to join the first. “Say? I didn’t say anything untoward, if that’s what you’re implying. She asked me a question, and I answered.”

She shook a finger at him, quivering with irritation. “I know you too well for this, Hans. You said something, and now she won’t talk to me, she’s avoiding me, s-she can’t even _look_ at me – ” Anna broke off abruptly, clearly fighting back tears. “It’s like… nothing’s changed, after all these years.”

He shrugged carelessly. “That isn’t something I can fix. Didn’t you say your sister shut you out for years before I came into the picture?”

“Yes, but clearly something you told her made her shut everyone out again.”

“Everyone?” Hans raised an eyebrow. “Is she locking herself in her room? Wearing her gloves?”

“N-no, but – ”

“So it’s just _you_ she’s avoiding.”

Anna paled. “I suppose – ”

“And pray, what makes you so special?”

“Shut up!”

He did, but the smirk remained on his face.

“What did you say to her?” demanded Anna.

“I merely told her why I saved her life.”

A flush started at her neck and crept upwards; her eyes remained fixed on him, but she didn’t say a word. Hans didn’t let his own expression waver, but he was fascinated by her control.

“What exactly did you say?” managed Anna at last.

“It was all part of the plan, of course,” said Hans curtly. He was in no mood to repeat his inspired diatribe; also, he had a feeling Anna knew, and was just seeking an opening to drive the conversation into the outcome – or pretext – she wanted. “Keeping that crown you so wantonly tossed into my lap.”

Again she said nothing, but the flush spread across her face entirely, and her hand clutched in her skirts. Lesser men would have mistaken it for embarrassment. “You mean you had more in mind than just killing Elsa, and leaving me to die?”

“Naturally, Anna dear. I’m not a simpleton whose hunger begins and ends at a loaf of bread.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered, and he chuckled; despite the ulterior motives he’d had for getting close to her, Anna had proved to be a genuinely entertaining companion, and the new hard edge she sported only made her more appealing to him, the true him. Not the foppish playboy persona she had met at her sister’s coronation. _Again, it’s such a pity she’s only a stepping stone and not the end goal._ Hans could easily imagine spending his life as King of Arendelle, Anna at his side. But aloud, he said: “Such a delightful companion, as always.”

She glanced sharply at him. “You’ve got that look again,” she announced.

“What look?”

“You’re up to something.” The princess shivered suddenly. “It scares me, you know, how it feels like there’re two people in that body.”

“Maybe there is, and maybe there isn’t.” He changed the subject. “Does your sister know you’re down here?”

Anna jumped guiltily. “I-no, I told her I was out with Kristoff –  wait. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Of course you don’t. But I only have your best interests at heart.” He simpered, and added, “As well as Elsa’s. I mean - what if she found out you lied to her, and you went to see the monster in the dungeons at that.”

She laughed, and Hans was momentarily taken aback by how cold it was; only for a moment, and then he slipped back into his unflappable facade. “No, you don’t. Care, I mean. It’s scary how close that sounded like the truth for a moment, Hans; I could have believed you. But really, you only care for yourself and your goals.” Anna paused and shook her head. “No, I’m not sure you can care at all.”

“I’m wounded.”

“Oh, believe me, that’s the least of what you’ll have to worry about if Elsa let me have my way with you.”

“That sounds rather suggestive, my princess,” he said. “Have I missed out on some more milestones in your life? Are you engaged to that peasant boy? No, wait, you've known him for more than a day - you've married him already? He must be delighted - a princess is a better catch than his ilk have ever hoped for.”

Anna's eyes flashed. "Don't you _dare_ talk about Kristoff like that. He's a better person than you ever will be, Hans."

He laughed, amused by the change in the questioning. “My word, Anna. You’ve certainly gotten wittier since the last time we spoke – and less inclined to physical violence.” Hans tapped his jaw, smirking at her. "You must really care about this boy."

Anna’s lips tightened. “This conversation is over.”

“What a pity. I felt it was only just getting started.” As she turned to go, he called out: “You should try talking to Elsa again.”

Much to his surprise, she hesitated, and then nodded tightly before disappearing.

 

* * *

 

“Your Majesty? This _is_ a surprise.”

Her mouth was a grim slash of determination. “Anna was here,” declared Elsa rather than queried, and Hans shrugged in exaggerated fashion. “She was indeed,” he replied.

“You –  you didn’t say anything to her, did you?”

"I still have my manners, and speak when spoken to." He affected an expression of wounded innocence. “Why, has she locked herself in her room? Shutting everyone out?”

Elsa flinched. “Shut up!”

 _She is utterly predictable_. Hans bowed theatrically, seating himself back on his bench.

Chest heaving, she began to pace around the limited space. “I just –  I know you’re a monster, but still I can’t –  I don’t understand.” The queen stared up at him as though seeing him for the first time. “Just what have you got planned?”

He rolled his shoulders in a dramatic mockery of a shrug. Elsa scowled.

“You can talk now, you bastard.”

“Such language from a monarch, and a woman at that,” Hans said primly. “I wonder though, what makes you think I’m planning something? Do my current circumstances smack of elaborate usurpation attempts? My behavior hinting at some bloody insurrection? Has Princess Anna said anything to you about me? You know how she imagines things.”

“I don’t believe you,” she proclaimed flatly, completely ignoring his jibes.

“Believe me?”

“It’s too convenient, too rational. Weselton’s men and the crossbows? Long-range weapons in close quarters? You just happened to shoot the chandelier and bring it down with one shot?” She drew close, frost crackling at her white-knuckled fists. “Just how much have you orchestrated things, Hans?”

“What, are we talking about the past? I’m confused; here I was thinking you suspected me of making new plots and corrupting Anna. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” The even tone of his voice seemed to infuriate her more, but she backed away, taking her ice with her. “But if it’ll ease your mind, I’ll tell you one thing.”

“You appear to think very highly of yourself,” she snapped. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if even now, you still have something up your sleeve.”

He moved closer; his chains clanked together. She stepped back automatically. "I’m locked in your deepest, dankest dungeon with no hope of release in the near future. I can't even relieve myself without your guards watching. I have nothing left." A smile curves over his lips. "Tell me, Queen Elsa, what makes you think I'm plotting something?"

"I don't know," she said, voice tight with exasperation. "Is it because you're a murderous, power-hungry villain who will stop at nothing to get what you want?"

He didn’t flinch. "Did you ever wonder, Elsa, why I stayed around despite seeing your true self?"

"Who knows what goes on in that mind of yours?" Despite the fury that drove her reply, her lip still trembled.

"Think about it," he cooed. "If not for me, you would have _killed_ those men. You're not a monster, Elsa, but you had to stop yourself from hurting anybody. You couldn't control it, right? All that power?”

“You’re so afraid of yourself, of everything, that you’ve buried so much within you, and I can’t help but want to bring that out.” Hans paused, his eyes searching her face for a reaction, but Elsa remained impassive. “I could see – I still see so much potential in you. Just like me.”

"No," she whispered, and bit down hard on her lower lip, as if shocked by the betrayal. “No,” she repeated, stronger now, fire entering her gaze. “I’m nothing like you.”

“Nothing like me? Then you’ve never cried yourself to sleep wishing you didn't exist, because you were told that the very act of breathing was an affront to everything you love? Never felt like the word love was something you were worthy of?” He was throwing out the darkest, deepest memories of his childhood; giving voice to things that had been buried for so long without realizing how bitter he had been. But his demons were as effective on her as they were to him.

“S-stop,” choked Elsa.

His eyes shone with a frenzy. “Tell me the truth, Elsa. I wont' judge; I understand just how it is.”

“… yes.” She said the word so quietly, and then seemed to shrink into herself after.

Hans’ smile widened. "There. That wasn’t so difficult to admit, wasn’t it?"

She seemed to come to herself, the uncertainty in her eyes dissipating. " _Enough_."

"As Your Majesty wishes," he said placidly; they both knew he had won this round, and there was no point in pushing his luck any further.

 

* * *

 

He slept badly that night, dreaming of things he had suppressed; being ignored, alone, forgotten. He was five when a dying foal was thrust onto him, his brothers’ cruel voices saying unwanted runts should stick together. Hans almost killed himself saving the foal’s life; not because he felt any particular affection for the animal, but because he was proving a point.

He named it Sitron.

* * *

 

He woke with a jolt. It was early – as early as he could discern from the little sunlight that reached him – and yet he was awake.

It dawned upon him that he was approaching the issue all wrong; yes, needling the sisters was entertaining, but in the long-term it did him no good. Hans had had enough fun. Now was the time for him to actually be working on his goals.

He had tried Anna, and it had gotten him tantalizingly close; but then everything had gone horribly wrong, and he was now in dire straits. That left him Elsa, despite his own assertion that no man was getting anywhere with her.

But Hans had dug into the depths of Elsa’s psyche and found her so tantalizingly broken; and now he was here at her mercy, he was well-placed to work towards his ends regardless of the hostility both sisters held towards him.

Even though he already knew what his decision would be, Hans weighed his options. He knew Elsa’s greatest weaknesses; she had handed him that weapon on a silver platter. He knew how to manipulate both sisters. He was desperate enough to gamble, just as he had staked everything on betraying Anna – and paid dearly for that miscalculation.

One sister left, and one last chance.

* * *

 

Elsa stormed into his cell, determination in her eyes. “You’re just saying all these things to get a reaction out of me,” she said with an air of confidence.

“True,” he answered blandly.

“... Wait, what?”

He spread his hands, palms facing upwards, in a gesture of complete acquiescence. “You’re right, Elsa. I say all these things because I enjoy them, and it’s a last spiteful gesture of a desperate man.” A sly smile curved his lips; it was all he could do to stop laughing aloud at the gobsmacked expression on her face. “Did you spend long puzzling me out?”

“I-no, of course not.” Elsa scowled. “Somehow, I don’t believe you at all.”

“I can’t blame you, of course.”

She said nothing this time; the courage she had worked up before coming into the cell clearly had deserted her. “Well,” she managed at last. “You’re up to something, that’s for sure; it’s just that I don’t know what it is.”

“As I said earlier, I can’t possibly be plotting anything, not in this condition.” He glanced around the cell meaningfully, adding, “But of course, you’re welcome to your opinions.”

Elsa nodded absently, her mind already elsewhere.

Hans leaned back and laughed.

* * *

 

She was unsettled enough to stop going down to the dungeons, but apparently she still wanted to talk to him. He smirked when the guards unchained him and brought him out. "Where are you taking me?"

"Silence," snarled the man on his left.

They climbed the stairs, their surroundings becoming more opulent, and Hans' smirk widened. The guards stopped in front of imposing double doors and knocked. "Enter," called a voice from within.

Elsa looked up from her paperwork, eyes narrowing when she saw him. A guard pushed him forward, and he stumbled to one knee.

“Why, Your Majesty; this is an honour – ”

"Don't get any strange ideas on why you're here," she said sharply, cutting across his voice. "You are here on my mercy, and you are still a prisoner of Arendelle. That will never change." With a wave of her hand, icy shackles materialized on his wrists.

"Of course," he said, and clambered to his feet, bowing low.

She continued to watch him closely; scrutinizing every movement, from the tilt of his head to the veiled emotion in his eyes. “You are here,” said Elsa after a pause, “because I know you’re planning something, and because of that I intend to keep a close eye on you.”

“I’m sure you have other pressing matters that require your attention, Queen Elsa, and you can’t spare the time to be watching my every move.”

The young queen flushed. “I – of course! I’m not going to stare at you all day, you idiot.”

Hans almost stumbled as the guard holding him gave his arm a rough shake, seemingly taking it upon himself to punish him on Elsa's behalf. “Of course. My humble apologies.” He glanced at the chaise lounge by the fire. “May I be permitted to sit, at the very least?”

“No,” she snapped.

“As you wish.” He adjusted his arms the best he could, and stood straight-backed and unmoving. “Then I shall stand here, unless there is some way I may be of assistance, Your Majesty…?"

Elsa ignored him, her ears and cheeks red with embarrassment. Hans kept his expression neutral. "Very well," he said blandly.

"You can leave," said the queen over his head to the man on his right, "and you stay with him," to the guard who had pushed him. Both saluted smartly, and Hans almost rolled his eyes. They reminded of himself as a younger man, newly enrolled in the Southern Isles' navy, a fresh recruit eager to impress. Much good that enthusiasm had gotten him; even in the ranks, his brothers' influence had reached far.

 _Did you think you could run away, Clever Hans?_ came his ninth brother's mocking voice in his ears. _You can't do anything right, can you?_

_Hold him still, Anselm. We'll show you what happens to useless brats no one wants, won't we?_

_Don't wear him out, Farmund; I haven't had my turn yet._

Hans shook his head, closed his eyes. When he opened them, Elsa had returned to her papers and the guard still with him hovered uncomfortably close. None of them had noticed his momentary lapse.

Close to dinner time, she dissolved her ice and instructed the guard to escort him back to his cell. "Make sure he is chained securely," she stressed, catching Hans’ eye, and the guard saluted.

* * *

 

The next day went the same as the first. "Stay here," she instructed him as the guard shoved him into her study, "and don't move from this spot." She then dismissed the guard.

Hans glanced around the library. "Is _this_ going to be the entirety of my imprisonment in Arendelle," he said, moving his wrists so his shackles clinked together, "live decoration in your study?" With a smirk, he added, "At least there's just one fool instead of two."

She pressed her lips together into a thin grimace. "I can't trust you to be alone down there, and yesterday proved to be awkward," Elsa admitted at length. "But I do need to keep an eye on you myself."

"I'm honoured. So is it too presumptuous of me to assume I’ll be here the whole day? May I be permitted to sit, in that case?"

Elsa hesitated, and then assented. He sat on the couch, made himself comfortable. "Now, the logistics, if it please you, my queen. Am I allowed a book, at the very least? And what about when I need to relieve myself? Am I to be given leave to visit the privy?"

Elsa twitched, her gloved fingers tangling in themselves, when he mentioned the crude term. "You are allowed books. As for the other – I will... there will be a guard to accompany you if you feel the – _urge_ , as it were."

"Excellent," he responded, expression perfectly serious, seemingly oblivious to Elsa’s discomfort.

 

* * *

 

He glanced up when he heard the stifled noise of frustration. Elsa, a hand to her forehead, had the end of the pen in her mouth. A light dusting of snow covered her immediate vicinity and went unnoticed.

"Your Majesty."

She didn't respond, continuing to frown deeply at the papers in front of her.

"Queen Elsa."

Giving a start, she looked up, blinking dazedly at him as though she could not remember why she had looked up in the first place. "Oh," said Elsa. "What is it?"

In answer, he pointed to the snowflakes still drifting lazily down. "You're snowing. Are you alright?"

"Why do you care?" she snapped, and the snow grew into jagged icicles – but thawed almost immediately. "Sorry," said the queen awkwardly, her hand rubbing her upper arm nervously. "I shouldn't – you didn't deserve that. It was – ”

“Apology accepted,” he said firmly but politely, cutting off her rambling.

Elsa nodded. "But I'm fine. It’s nothing. I'm sorry to disturb you." Her curt tone warned him against pursuing the topic. Hans pretended not to notice his breath coming in curling clouds in front of him. "Not at all," he said, blandly polite. "I was simply concerned for your well-being." He returned his attention to his book, seemingly oblivious to the strange looks she shot him now and then.

* * *

 

She was startled from her train of thought by her name, called repeatedly but respectfully.

"Um," he began, and Elsa was rather surprised to hear him speak in any other way but polished, "I need... I have to relieve myself."

"Oh," she said dumbly, and then her eyes widened as understanding struck. "O-of course. Let me summon a guard to escort you."

"Thank you."

The queen went outside, calling for assistance. When a castle guard marched in, staring fixedly at Hans down the bridge of his nose, Elsa waved a hand and vanished his shackles. “Oh,” he commented, flexing his hands, “and here I was thinking that would be a problem.”

Elsa ignored him. "Don't let him out of your sight," she said to the guard, and he snapped a salute; Hans wrinkled his nose.

Elsa sank back into her chair; surprisingly, she found it difficult to concentrate in his absence; not out of anxiety that she could not see what he was doing, but of another sort that she found puzzling.

* * *

 

"Your Majesty."

Elsa looked up. He stood before her, the guard at his side, holding his hands out in front of him, not actually meeting her eyes. "If you please..."

Dazedly, she waved and reformed his bonds. "You may go," she told the guard.

Hans meekly went back to his seat, letting her chain him to the fireplace, picking up his book and finding his page.

Elsa seemingly went back to her paperwork, but in actual fact was puzzling over his model behaviour. She was convinced he was up to something, and she vowed not to let her guard down until she knew what he was plotting.

She owed it to Anna.

* * *

 

He didn’t speak until dinner, when she was walking him to the dungeons on her way to the dining hall (despite everything he had done, and how much she hated him, it seemed too cruel to leave him to starve in the library overnight). “You seem preoccupied.”

The queen’s eyes flicked to him, and back. “What do you mean?”

“Is something bothering you?”

“You, for starters.”

He smiled thinly. “I have been taking great pains not to offend Your Majesty with my behaviour.”

“No, that’s exactly it.” In her annoyance, she had stopped walking altogether. “Overnight, you go from openly taunting Anna and myself, to being the model of subservience. You’ll forgive me if I am suspicious of your behaviour.”

“You insist on my constant presence at your side,” he said, “and I am really at a loss to prove to you that I have no ulterior motives.” Hans chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “Why don’t you just leave me in the dungeons to rot? Out of sight, out of mind.”

Elsa sneered, a cold expression that, surprisingly, did not suit her at all. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Nobody breathing down your neck, watching you scheme, preventing you from playing your little mind-games with the guards.”

“It’s much healthier for you, Your Majesty. I'm sure you have other, more important things to do with your time.”

“You would know what’s best for me, wouldn’t you?” she said in a horrible imitation of his silky tones.

“I like to think so.”

“You wanted me dead so you could keep the crown Anna dropped in your lap,” said Elsa brusquely, continuing the walk down the corridor. “I think we can leave it at that.”

Hans shrugged, knowing full well she wasn’t looking at him. “As it please Your Majesty.”

* * *

 

Dinner that night was a surprisingly quiet affair, with Kristoff at the ice lake overnight, Olaf for company. The sisters’ conversation (mostly Anna) had dwindled in favour of their meal, until Anna broke a long pause.

“I don’t like it.”

Elsa put her fork down. “Don’t like what?” she asked absently, eyeing her dessert.

“The idea of him still here.” Anna scowled at her plate. “You should send him away. The Southern Isles, anywhere. I don’t care, as long as he’s not here.”

Elsa blinked. This was the first time her sister had expressed an opinion on her decision to keep Hans prisoner, and frankly, she had been worried that Anna had remained quiet for so long. If she knew that he was in her study every day…

“He’ll be up to no good if he’s not here, being watched.” She neglected to say who was watching him.

She slammed down her utensils. “Just because he tried to take this kingdom, that doesn’t make him _your_ burden to bear, Elsa!”

The queen rose from her chair, her expression pained; Anna immediately regretted her outburst. “Elsa…”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, Anna. I shouldn’t have rushed the decision.”

“It’s not your fault. I was surprised, and I… well.” Anna’s posture relaxed significantly, and she sighed. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do. I just…” Elsa sighed as well. “I don’t want him to hurt other people like he hurt you. I know I’ve been a horrible sister all these years – ”

“– Elsa, no,” interjected the princess. “We’ve talked about this. Papa and Mama did what they thought was best for us, but it wasn’t. _It wasn’t your fault_. Nothing is.” Anna pushed her chair away and went to her sister. “Now I’m really concerned about you keeping Hans so close.”

Elsa returned the hug half-heartedly. “You don’t need to worry about me, you’ve spent years doing that.”

“I’m your sister. I’m supposed to be worrying about you all the time.”

“And as your big sister, I’m supposed to be taking care of us both so you won’t have to.”

Anna said nothing, her penetrating gaze boring into her sister’s; finally, she nodded, and the queen let out the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding.

“... fine. I trust you, Elsa. But the instant he acts up, I’m gonna do more than punch him into the fjord, okay?”

The older woman squeezed Anna’s hands. “I won’t let him hurt you again. I promise.”

“Don’t just promise me that.” The princess’ eyes bored into Elsa’s. “Promise me you won’t let him hurt you too. I know what he's capable of and I - I don't want you to go through what I did.”

“I promise.”

In truth, as the princess flung her arms around Elsa’s neck, she was more worried about her sister being hurt than herself; after all, she had emerged mostly unscathed from her engagement with a valuable lesson learnt.

Elsa decided to break the news about Hans at a later date.

* * *

 

“Hello, Anna,” said Hans without looking up from his dinner.

She scowled. “How’d you know it was me?”

“I assume Elsa told you I was down here, and you’d want to talk with me regarding the terms of my, uh, imprisonment.” He glanced up. “You didn’t tell her you were coming down here?” He had guessed the princess was yet unaware of his daily imprisonment in Elsa’s study, and hid a secret smirk.

Anna’s scowl deepened. “Honestly, I don’t know why Elsa hasn’t shipped you off to the most remote place she could think of. You’re really, really annoying. She knows what you’re capable of – ”

“Does she really?”

“What?”

Hans smiled. “It was only you and I having that little chat in the study, my dear Anna. I can confide to you that no one living has seen that side of me. Right now – of course – I’m not as frank with your sister as I am with you now.”

“Then you _are_ two people in one,” said Anna triumphantly, “or more accurately, you’re a two-faced jerk.”

“Language.”

“I’ll say whatever I like.”

Hans inclined his head. “By all means.”

“Anyway, I’m not here to argue with you.” Anna folded her arms across her chest. “I’m just here to let you know that I’ve got my eye on you.”

“Such an honour, enjoying the _close attentions_ of both the Queen and Crown Princess of Arendelle.” Hans added a leer and wink just to remind her of the innuendo in that statement.

“Keep that up, and I _will_ punch you again,” she said. “I know you’re up to something and so does Elsa, but for some reason she wants to keep you around and I trust her decision. But I’m watching you, Hans, and if you do anything to hurt Elsa…”

“I’m sure you have something painful in store for me.”

"Do you think this is a joke?”

“Certainly not,” he said quietly. “This is anything but a joke.”

* * *

 

Twice a week, Elsa held meetings with her council. She left him to his own devices while she spoke with them, and Hans had mixed feelings towards that; on one hand, he was free to do as he pleased – limited, of course, to the confines of his shackles and the library. On the other hand, he noticed a pattern in which her absences grew longer, and her appearance grew increasingly haggard.

“Your Majesty?”

She was deep in thought, and didn’t notice until he practically shouted at her. “What?” she snapped.

“You look tired. Didn’t you sleep well last night?”

“As well as I could, given the state of the council,” she began hotly, but then bit her lip as though she had said too much. “... It’s none of your business.”

“... I understand.”

The look on his face when he was dismissed was so blank and unperturbed, Elsa spent a sleepless night puzzling out what was on his mind.

* * *

 

“Elsa, I insist you come out with me today. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“I have a lot of work to do. I can’t possibly leave it all. Maybe another day, Anna…”

“That’s what you said yesterday, and the day before that... Come on. We can have a nice picnic, just the two of us, and all the chocolate Gerda will let us get away with – ”

“Anna. Please. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“… Okay.”

* * *

 

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

Hans jumped a little at being addressed so suddenly and bluntly. “Your Majesty?”

Elsa glared at him, her eyes heavily ringed and blue-black, exhaustion written into the new lines of her face. “I have had it up to here with your games.”

“I’m not doing anything – ”

Ice crackled loudly around her arms, and he shut his mouth.

“Nothing you say can deter me,” said the queen quietly, her words dripping with venom. “I know you are planning something. I won’t let you hurt Anna again.”

He bit his lip, his eyes darting left and right; he had noticed she hadn’t been sleeping well for the past week, but he hadn’t anticipated how bad it really was. “My queen. Please. You’re exhausted, you don’t know what you’re saying – ”

Her hand flashed out, and caught his sleeve. It stiffened, and he knew it had frozen over.

“I won’t fall for it again,” mumbled Elsa. “I won’t be taken in by your lies like Anna was – I know you too well for that – you nearly took Anna from me – ”

Her gaze flickered, then glazed over; she pitched forward into his hastily outstretched arms. “Guards!” Hans roared, his shackles clanking together furiously as he struggled to lift her in his arms. The sound became increasingly sloppy as the ice started to melt.

* * *

 

Anna refused to leave Elsa’s bedside for the entire time she was sick, he heard. Hans didn’t know for sure; he was in the dungeons the entire time.

He bit his lip, swallowing his anger and impatience with the dry bread and cold water the guards brought him.

News trickled slowly down to where he sat. She was ill with a fever that was alarmingly high, even by normal standards, and Hans knew that couldn’t be good for an ice queen. Several times they had feared for her life. But after one panic-stricken night the fever had finally broken, and she began the slow road to recovery under Anna’s loving care.

And still he waited.

* * *

 

It was thirteen days of incarceration before the guard came for him – the irony had not escaped him. Hans had kept count of sunrises by scratching marks on the wood of his pallet bed. His heart hammered with mingled excitement and trepidation as he walked the familiar path.

"Elsa, you shouldn't be out of bed yet," said a familiar voice as they approached the double doors. The guard knocked, and the heated discussion stopped.

Elsa, looking the same as always – maybe a little paler, the shadows on her face more pronounced – sat at her desk, her hands out of sight. He presumed they were neatly folded in her lap. What was different was the additional layers of clothing that was bundled on her, including a magenta cape he recognised as belonging to Anna.

The princess herself had pulled up a chair beside her sister, thinner and paler herself. The sharp look she shot him when he entered, however, assured Hans that her spirit and hatred for him was undiminished; increased, even. It was clear, from the sharp look that was now directed at Elsa, that Anna now knew about his recent incarceration in Elsa’s study, and she was less than happy at finding out so late. Elsa’s eyes remained fixed ahead.

Hans bowed low, making his perfunctory greetings to the royal family. “You look well, Your Majesty,” he lied. She had a faint air of fatigue around her person, like her illness was now a permanent part of her.

“As do you,” she replied with unusual sarcasm. He bared his teeth in a parody of a grin to let her know it had not gone unnoticed.

“I look as well as a damp cell and bread and water will allow a man to be.”

“I think my illness has had the same effect.” She waved a hand, and the familiar weight of the shackles rested on his wrists. “You know where to go.” The queen glanced at the mountains of paperwork awaiting her attention as though he wasn’t there anymore and sighed. Anna leaned in, whispering urgently. His lip curled, but he obediently sat as the sisters conducted their conversation in hushed tones. The book he had been reading when Elsa had collapsed was still on the low table, and Hans settled it in his lap.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Anna sigh and kiss her sister’s cheek before leaving the library.

* * *

 

After a period, Anna stopped spending her days in Elsa’s study. It was before one of the queen’s council meetings, and Hans was reading quietly.

“– she shouldn’t be up yet – ”

Hans paused, and pricked up his ears. His book was set to one side, forgotten, and he moved as close to the door as his chains would allow.

“– been doing too much – ”

“– wondered if a _woman_ could rule a kingdom, by the gods – ”

“– frail woman at that – look at her recent illness – and with those strange powers –”

He shrugged. The murmurings were nothing new; they were to be expected, even, of a small and traditional kingdom set in the old ways like Arendelle. Hans was only surprised that he had not heard them sooner. The voices soon grew louder as the councilmen’s discussion became heated, much to his delight.

“We haven’t had a female monarch since Queen Margaret, and with good reason, if you ask me.”

“And her reign has had no end of bad luck; freezing over the kingdom, and that usurper prince nearly killing her and her sister both.”

“I’ve heard that she keeps him imprisoned in her study.”

“Not her boudoir?”

“What are you doing?” Elsa’s sharp voice cut through his thoughts, and he straightened, heart hammering from what he had just heard. “Your Majesty.”

“You know you’re not supposed to be there.”

“Forgive me, I was – ”

“Wilhelm.” His regular guard nodded. “Escort the prisoner back to his cell.”

Hans looked as though he would say something, but decided against it. Elsa shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye; dismissing him to the back of her mind, she opened the double doors to her council room.

* * *

 

If it was possible, she looked even more exhausted the next time he saw her. Hans’ face remained perfectly expressionless even as he looked up to acknowledge her presence.

She glided past him like a ghost, her pale hair and paler complexion completing the picture. Even her teal eyes – the same shade as Anna’s eyes – looked washed out, where the princess shone with health and energy. With her sister’s cloak draped around her shoulders, the bright magenta only emphasized her lack of vitality.

Elsa – or her shade – picked up her pen and began to write mechanically. He stared at her for a good long time but she was oblivious to him.

Hans would have left it at that, returning to his book, if it wasn’t for the low muffled sound that filled the silent library. He glanced up.

Her pen lay forgotten on the papers. Elsa’s face was hidden in both her hands; Anna’s cloak had slipped from shaking shoulders. Sharp crackling noises diverted his attention from the young queen, and he glanced down to see the shackles grow in size, little jagged icicles sprouting from the curved surfaces. Hans grimaced as some grazed his skin, drawing warm blood.

“Your Majesty?” he called. She appeared not to hear him.

He was glad she had left his feet free. Dragging his chains with him gingerly, careful not to aggravate the wounds, Hans made his way to her desk, where a snowstorm was beginning to brew.

“My queen.”

Through her slender gloved fingers he could see her lips move, and he leaned in closer to catch the words.

“I tried so hard Father Mother I can’t I can’t rule Arendelle I can’t protect Anna I hurt her I hurt them all so tired…”

“My queen,” he said again, sharper this time. Elsa continued to repeat the words like a prayer, over and over again.

Gritting his teeth, he risked everything he had left on a gamble; he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Elsa,” he said, and her name felt rusty on his tongue.

That got her attention. “Wh-what… Hans!” She shrank back from him violently, sending papers fluttering to the floor.

Hans held out his manacled hands. “The shackles, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice calm and steady, “they’re cutting me.”

“I – I’m so sorry!”  A flick of her trembling wrist dissolved the icy chains, and he turned his palms over, inspecting the cuts left on his skin. “It’s alright,” he said distantly, with a quick smile. “No lasting harm done.”

She flinched visibly, and he knew his barb had hit home. “I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry – I tried – ”

“– Elsa. _Stop that_.” She was shocked into silence mid-mumble, and he knelt before her so he could look up into her face.

“You didn’t mean to. This isn’t your fault.”

“But I – ”

“You didn’t mean to hurt me. You’re under a lot of stress, it was an accident.” His voice was low and soothing, the tone he employed for calming skittish horses, and Hans found its use now strangely appropriate. But she still shied away from him, shaking her head, her arms gripping each other with a vehemence that almost worried him. Hans sensed that she was at a critical point; he could continue to coax her, or he could give in and call for Anna. He was risking life and limb, seeing how she had frozen Anna’s heart – _and she wasn’t as emotionally unstable then!_ – when Anna had pressed her too far. If it were to go wrong, he would be dead.

But if he were to succeed… Elsa would be dependent on him, not Anna. He would own her, body and soul, in ways forbidden to her sister. She would be his. It was too dangerous to gamble on an outcome. She was at the end of her rope, physically weakened, mentally fragile.

Elsa’s mouth moved, and he gave a start; for every second he spent agonising over his decision she changed, and if he acted too late the balances would tip –

“An – ”

“– Elsa.”

Her eyes widened. He was gripping her hands, easing them away from their tight grip, bringing them up to his chest, pressing them to his heart. Tendrils of frost curled over his shirt; she gave a strangled cry and tried to tear them away, but he held on.

“Hans, what are you – ”

His green eyes bored into hers unblinkingly. “You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks but she stopped fighting him.

“Right now, I know you don’t believe that – goodness knows you have no reason to. But I want you to know, Elsa, that you’re not a monster. You’re not alone. You have Anna, and you have me.” Hans' lip twitched. "Despite my current circumstances, our... _complicated_ , relationship."

“Anna,” she whispered, looking horrified. He squeezed her hands.

“I’m well aware things between us now are complicated. But I believe in you and your magic. You never wanted to hurt anyone, right? You only wanted to keep them safe.”

Slowly, painfully, she nodded.

“None of the things that happened were your fault. You didn’t mean to hurt anyone, Elsa, and that makes all the difference.” He squeezed her hands again, his thumbs rubbing over her skin, and felt the chill began to leave them. “Even I can see that.”

Her thin frame shook uncontrollably. He let her snatch back a hand, and she pressed it to her mouth.

"I know. I understand. It’s alright. _It’s not your fault_.”

He waited until she lifted her gaze to meet his before smiling as gently as he could.

“See, Elsa? Everything’s fine.” Hans let go, spreading his hands to show they were unharmed. “I’m fine.”

A tiny nod.

His smile widened.

* * *

 

She did go to find Anna eventually, and he did return to his cell eventually, but the connection had been made and the beginnings of a bond forged.

 

* * *

 

The next time Hans was called up to Elsa’s study, he was only mildly surprised that she pretended as though nothing had happened. Anna’s presence was also another factor he had anticipated. She was perched on the desk at Elsa’s side, in the middle of an anecdote when she caught sight of him.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” he said stiffly, bowing and nodding to them respectively. Elsa ignored him, whereas Anna shot him her usual dark glare. Hans averted his eyes and sat in his usual seat. “Your Majesty…” he began, holding out his wrists.

“They won’t be necessary from now on,” answered Elsa without looking up, and Hans blinked. “I… see.” He stood and bowed. “Thank you.”

Elsa’s eyes remained fixed on the papers in front of her, even as Anna spluttered.

Hans’ downcast eyes hid a smirk of victory.

* * *

 

“Wilhelm, wait a moment.”

Hans and his escort paused. “Princess Anna?” asked the man. He had straw-blonde hair and an open, honest face.

She smiled at him. “I just want to speak with Hans for a few moments. Do you mind…?”

“Oh, not at all!” The smile vanished from the guard’s face. “Not alone of course – ”

“ – of course not.” She pointed to the end of the hallway, within sight but safely out of earshot. “We’ll just be over there, and you can come get him when I say so.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

She seized Hans’ elbow and yanked him over, and for a moment it seemed like nothing had happened between them. But as she pushed him against the wall, Anna’s eyes were hard and cold like the ice she had been.

“So,” she began.

“What is it that’s so important you had to speak with me away from your sister?” Hans asked, equally coldly; with her, he could drop all pretence and aggravate her as he wished, but she was having none of it.

“You know very well what I need to speak to you about.” She brushed back a lock of hair on her right, and he recalled that it had been white before she had thawed. “The game you’re playing with Elsa – that you tried with me – it’s not going to work.”

His eyebrows rose into his fringe. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” exclaimed Hans indignantly.

“Yeeeah, we’ll skip the back-and-forth of accusations and denial, shall we? I haven’t got the time, patience, or naivety for that,” she snorted. "You're taking advantage of Elsa."

“I'm not taking advantage of your sister. I am merely providing the support and understanding that she seems to be sorely lacking of late.”

Anna sneered. "Support and understanding? Lacking? Since when?"

"Being queen is quite a burden - of course, I don't expect you to understand," he said smoothly.

She pouted. "Elsa knows she always has me. I'll always be there for her."

Hans shrugged. "That she does." He was winning so easily it bored him, but it seemed that Anna wasn't even aware they were competing - in spite of all her strong words and bravado. He smoothed out his expression into a perfectly bland court expression. Anna pulled a face.

“Don’t you get tired of playing at being the perfect prince, Hans? You don’t have to pretend with me – I’ve seen your true colours.”

He smiled, inclining his head. “The role gets quite comfortable over time, Princess.”

"Anyway. Back to the point.” She poked a finger in his chest. “I would do anything to protect Elsa.” Anna gripped the front of his shirt. “She still insists on keeping you in sight, which is a really bad idea and I told her so, but she says it’s fine and better still because she can nip it in the bud and whatever, and I don’t want to fight with her again.”

“The epitome of sisterly trust,” commented Hans blandly, risking her ire. “Anyway, it’s not like I can do anything to someone who can freeze me before I can say a word.”

“Nothing obvious like, oh, trying to chop us into half when we’re not looking. The sneaky underhanded stuff, of course. Elsa wouldn’t underestimate you, and neither will I.” She yanked his face down so she could stare into his eyes without craning her neck. “I’m watching you. And I know who you really are.”

Hans only smirked. “You do, do you?”

But she had already let go of him, turning away to shout for Wilhelm, disappearing around the corner without a second glance. He scowled. Anna was a hindrance, but certainly not a major setback in his machinations, despite her bluster.

He would have to manage somehow.

* * *

 

In the end, Hans found that the most potent weapon in his arsenal was time and patience. Anna was present each day in the study, alternating between chatting with Elsa and sending death glares in his direction; unfazed, he flipped the pages of Kant’s treatise and continued reading. The Arendellian collection was really quite varied. He suspected Elsa had curated it, and had to admire her taste in reading material.

"If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, Your Highness, but maybe you could give Her Majesty a break?"

Anna frowned. "Wait, what? That's none of your business."

Elsa paid no attention to Hans; she smiled fondly at her sister, but it was strained at the edges. "You're usually out at this time, Anna. Where's Olaf?"

"He's wandered off. Kristoff's making deliveries with Sven. But that's not important." She folded her arms, swinging her feet. The queen winced as Anna's feet thudded and  scuffed the desk. "I'm spending time with my sister."

"And so you are," said Elsa diplomatically.

"Here, let me help..."

"You don't need to - I'll be done soon."

Anna sighed, but relinquished the stack of parchment.

* * *

 

Soon enough, Anna talked less and stared out the window more, and she fidgeted with the hem of her dress constantly. When she did talk to Elsa, it was frivolous, and she was quick to argue. Hans pretended to be oblivious.

She reached her breaking point after one week.

“Anna,” said Elsa with a touch of asperity as her younger sister paced the room for the umpteenth time after a discussion about chocolate turned into an argument, “why don’t you go outside? You could meet Kristoff or something.”  

She halted mid-stride, mouth falling open to retort – but then she glanced at Hans’ quietly triumphant face, then the weariness in Elsa’s expression, and stayed silent.

The queen read Anna’s hesitation correctly. “If it’s about Hans, I – ” she began with a frown.

“N-no, it’s not. It’s just – it looks like it could rain, and I don’t want to get my new dress wet.”

It was a poor excuse, and Hans smirked – an especially cold one reserved for Anna – before returning to his book. Anna’s cheeks burned hot; Elsa chewed on her lip.

“You’ve been cooped up in here with me for the whole week,” she said tactfully, “and I know you’ve been waiting years for the gates to open, and...”

Anna crossed the room to Elsa’s side. “I have, but it’s not the same without you. I mean, we’ve only just got to know each other after years of separation, and now your powers are under control.” She reached for Elsa’s hand. “Come out with us.”

The queen hesitated – and drew her hand back. “Anna, I-I’m sorry, but I have a lot of work to do…”

“Please.”

Elsa looked as though she was retreating into herself, her posture shrinking and her arms wrapped around her elbows. “I’m sorry.”

Anna looked devastated. “No, it’s okay.” Her hand fell limply to her side. “I just – I thought the door was open and things were, you know, different.”

“Things _are_ different, Anna. But I have responsibilities to Arendelle too.”

“I know.”

There was a pause, but Hans kept his eyes trained on his book. “Fine,” said Anna’s voice at last, heavy with disappointment. “I’ll see you later tonight for dinner?”

“Of course.”

He only allowed himself to look up when the door had slammed shut. “Your Majesty?” he asked, the picture of innocence.

“What is it?” she said tiredly, resting her head in one hand.

“… No, nothing.”

* * *

 

When growing up in the Southern Isles, Hans used to go fishing when he wanted some time away from the intrigue and artificiality of the court. He had caught many kinds of fish in different types of waters.

Like people, fishes had varying levels of intelligence; from the foolish minnows that he could scoop up with a net as they frolicked around his ankles midstream, to the wary pike that lurked in the deep, stagnant waters.

He had found them nigh impossible to catch in the beginning. The large and cunning fishes always stole his bait, and sometimes made off with his good hooks in the bargain. After a particularly frustrating afternoon in which he had wasted an ounce of good bait and with nothing to show for it, he’d paid an old fisherman for the secret to catching the elusive pike.

“You need patience, above all,” explained the man over a pint of ale, “for catching a pike is a long and tedious process. You throw out your line and offer him the bait, but let him take it. He is a ferocious fighter when his suspicions are aroused, and you will not win this fight, young man.”

“Day by day, come back and offer him the bait, but day by day, bring him a little closer. Vary your offerings, if you want. Make sure he doesn’t suspect the hook hiding in the morsel.”

“It will be slow going. There will be some days when he doesn’t want the bait, or is not in his lair. There will be days where other fish will take your bait. But if you are patient, one day you will find he has strayed from the safety of his lair into your territory, and when he bites, the struggle will be fierce but short, because he trusted you, and you tricked him.”

It took him a week to catch his first pike, and Hans found the strategy to work with people too.

* * *

 

Dinner, he heard, was a stilted affair. He had his ways of finding things out despite being confined in his cell. Which meant, of course, that he had to feign perfect ignorance the next day when he was ushered into Elsa’s study. “Your Majesty,” he said, nodding deferentially.

Elsa barely looked up. Shrugging, Hans thanked Wilhelm, who was accompanying him, and sat down.

He waited out the few minutes of loaded silence perfectly before remarking, “Is Princess Anna not here today?”

The queen flinched. “No.”

“I see.” Hans returned to his book, and the page he had been perusing for the past week. “She’s with her young man, then?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know.” Ice, he noted, was beginning to creep over her desk and she had yet to notice; her hands, white-knuckled, were splayed over the frozen wood.

“Your Majesty? Are you alright?” he said soothingly, putting down his book. “Do you need me to – ”

“Stay away!” Hans ducked as an icicle narrowly missed his head. Elsa jerked her hand back as though it had been burnt, her eyes filled with fear. “I – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – ”

“ – it’s not your fault,” murmured Hans. Both his palms were extended towards her as he braved the rapidly dropping temperatures. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I understand. But Elsa, you need to calm down.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands, to the gloves of ice that were forming rapidly, before she hid them from him.

“Please leave,” said Elsa, voice wavering, “ _now_.”

Hans ignored her. Surging forward, he wrapped his arms around her, oblivious to her flinch of terror and the searing cold that burned his skin. It was a miracle she hadn’t frozen his heart, and he knew she was thinking the same thing as she began to cry quietly. Her fingers gripped his shirt with enough force to alarm him, but he didn’t care.

She was that much closer to him.

* * *

 

When Elsa had dozed off into a fitful sleep in his arms, he had carried her to his usual chaise lounge and walked over to the window, drawing back the curtain enough to peep through.

Anna, in the company of her burly peasant, talking snowman, and reindeer, chattered merrily as she left the castle. Hans watched her go, savouring her defeat, of which she was still completely oblivious to.

“Rest well, my queen,” he crooned, walking over to Elsa and brushing her hair away from her eyes.

* * *

 

"Do you think Anna's been acting strange of late?"

She stared blankly at him, taking a while to come back from tariffs and tradable goods. Hans leaned over the desk. They had progressed from his chains on the sofa, to a chair pulled up to her desk when they were alone. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I didn't mean to imply anything untoward," he said hastily, "I was simply commenting she hasn't been her usual self."

"She was as talkative as always at mealtimes." She furrowed her brow, her big-sister instincts going into overdrive, equal amounts of guilt and love powering her memories. "She spent the rest of the day out with Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven."

"She hasn't been to see you lately."

"I'm busy anyway," she told him, even as a tiny tendril of sadness sank into her heart and stayed there; he could see it in those large, transparent teal eyes.

He smiled and nodded politely. The idea was planted.

* * *

 

"I don't mean to alarm you, Your Majesty, but there seems to be something going on with your council."

The day was bright and cheerful, a rare one for Arendelle’s northern climate, but Elsa had drawn the heavy curtains so the room matched her mood. "What's wrong with my council?" she snapped.

He raised both hands, palms-up, in a placating gesture. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I believe they fear you."

“So what else is new? Day in, day out, I spend more of my time dealing with their politics and insinuations rather than getting anything important done. I just…” She chewed nervously on her bottom lip, arms already wrapping around herself and clutching her elbows. Her mouth worked soundlessly.

He set his book down and moved to her, touching her upper arms. She flinched.

"I'm only here for you, Elsa," he crooned soothingly. "I owe everything to you. Don't be afraid of me." His ungloved hands cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking lightly – a bold move, even for him. "Don't shut _me_ out."

A whimper escaped her lips. She clung to him like a drowning woman to a bit of debris, hoping it would float. Hans stroked her hair, murmuring empty but sweet words of comfort in her ear, secretly gloating over this small victory.

* * *

 

"Elsa?"

She wasn't anywhere. He walked all over the castle, searching for her. From the unnatural chill that hung over the place, he guessed something had happened with her powers.

Hans decided he would find Anna first.

No one gave him a second glance as he wandered freely through the hallways; idly, the young man wondered if it was Elsa’s doing. Lost in thought, he nearly bumped into Anna as she walked around the corner.

“You!”

“Princess Anna.”

She looked terrible. A shawl was draped around her shoulders, hands tucked under her arms, and her complexion was milky-white, the freckles on her face standing out in stark relief. Anna tottered from the collision, and automatically he reached out to steady her.

“You,” she said again, trying to push him away weakly, “what are you doing out of your cell?”

“I haven’t been required to be in it recently, nor do I require constant supervision, in case you haven’t noticed,” answered Hans smugly. Anna, however, paid no attention to his deliberately provocative tone, a faraway look in her eyes. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Know what?”

The princess pushed past him, suppressing a shiver, and continued on her way. Hans was left to process what had happened; when he put the pieces together, a slow, predatory smile spread across his face.

It had occurred to him where he should look.

Based on Anna's stories, he easily found the white door decorated with blue snowflakes. He frowned, noting the worn paint towards the right, in patches starting low and ending just about shoulder-height.

"Elsa?"

He tapped on the door; it swung open.

She sat on her bed, curled up in a tight bundle of misery.

"Oh, Elsa." Hans walked closer, suddenly aware of how cold it was inside, and that his boots crunched in layers of pristine snow. "Are you alright? What happened?"

She appeared not to hear him.

He sat on the frozen-stiff bed beside her, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. Elsa flinched, a choked whimper escaping her lips. "Please," she muttered, "don't touch me, I can’t – "

"You won't hurt me," he said firmly. "You won't hurt anyone."

"I've hurt Anna."

"I'm not Anna."

His hands gripped her arms, gently pulling them away from herself. "Come here."

She did, reluctantly, slowly – it was still an improvement from the days he would practically force her into a hug. She pressed her ear to his chest, just as his arms enveloped her in his warmth.

“Do you trust me?”

Her voice wavered. “Hans, I – ”

“Because I trust you, Elsa. I know you would never hurt me on purpose, hurt anyone at all. I believe in you. I – ” He pretended to stumble on his words and fall silent.

She took the bait. “Hans?”

“Forgive me.”

“What is it?” Elsa pulled away a little, frowning slightly.

“I – no, I shouldn’t, please forget it,” pleaded Hans, injecting as much stiltedness into his words as possible.

“I won’t think any worse of you. Please tell me.” A shadow crossed her face, and she bit her lip. “If it’s about my powers – ”

“No! It has nothing to do with them. I think they’re wonderful. I just – ” His eyes darted to the door. “I should go.”

“Hans – ”

He left hastily, muttering excuses under his breath, only disappearing when he was absolutely certain her fullest attention was on him.

* * *

 

The next time, he let her come to him, to make sure she had taken the bait.

They were seated at her desk, Hans drafting a letter she was dictating to him and offering the occasional question. He was cautious to minimize eye contact; on the rare occasion their eyes met, he was the first to look away.

“Hans.”

Her directness was surprising but not wholly unexpected. Hans glanced at her. “My queen?”

“Is there – is something wrong?”

“N-no, nothing at all – ”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said firmly. “Well, as much as is possible anyway. And the other day in my room…”

Hans lowered his gaze. “I must ask you to forget that it ever happened, Your Majesty,” said the young man quietly. “That was a grave mistake, and I should have never let it happen. Forgive me.”

When he stole a glance at her, he could see she was torn between curiosity and her natural reserve - as well as a hint of something else quite different.

Her hand rested on his, butterfly-light, and Hans blinked.

“Do you trust me?” The question was soft, hesitant, and he could see how nervous she was.

“Yes.”

“Then tell me.”

This was it. His chance.

“I… I love you.”

As he had painstakingly calculated, the guard knocked to announce his arrival, startling Elsa. Hans stumbled to his feet, face flushed. "I - excuse me, Your Majesty." She let him go without a word, eyes staring blankly ahead, a slow flush starting over her pale features.

Hans smirked as he went.

* * *

 

Elsa was unusually skittish and prone to blushing, especially when he looked directly at her.

Anna, on the other hand, glowered more and smiled less.

He was delighted with how things were progressing.

 

* * *

 

It was Elsa who made the first move almost exactly seven months after her coronation, much to Hans’ surprise; he hadn’t anticipated the bold streak in her.

The hour at which he would be sent back to his cell grew later still, until they had dinner brought up to them in the library, and the sun had long since set.

“Hans?”

He smiled at her. “Yes, Queen Elsa?”

“That day…”

“Which one?” he asked, knowing perfectly well what she was talking about.

“When you said that you – _loved_ me,” she began, stumbling over the word.

Hans knew it was a game, and yet, as he heard her say it, a genuine flush spread over his face. “I know it’s presumptuous, and I’m sorry, but I – ”

She held up a hand. “No, don’t – Hans, I… I think I might feel the same way.” Elsa bit her lip, and hot dark desire surged in his chest.

“What?”

“I know I shouldn’t feel this way about you – not after what you did – but I do.” Hot tears spilled down her cheeks but Elsa made no attempt to wipe them away.

“Elsa?” He didn’t wait for an answer, simply wrapping her in his arms. This time, instead of merely holding her, his hands stroked her hair, pushing her fringe away from her face. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” said Hans forcefully. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.” His thumbs brushed her cheeks, and he could feel her shudder. “It’s my fault; I should have never let this slip –”

“And then what?” snapped Elsa with sudden heat. “You would have concealed it for the rest of your life?”

“It’s the only way to protect you!”

His lip twisted at the irony; she interpreted the gesture differently. “Protect me?” she echoed incredulously, pushing away to stare at him. “From who?”

“Me.”

“D-don’t be ridiculous. If anything… I should be protecting you from _me_.” The young queen’s voice cracked on the last word.

“Elsa, that’s nonsense. You're not a monster, and you have never been one.”

“I don’t know anything anymore.” She turned from him, making to pull away from his embrace –

Before her thoughts could stray to darker realms, Hans caught her face in his hands and kissed her.

After a long heartbeat, she kissed him back.

Elsa's eyes were hazy when Hans pulled away. "I," she began, and blushed. He smiled fondly, brushing her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, and her blush intensified.

They did nothing more after that – Elsa was still too fearful, too overwhelmed – but Hans knew it was only a matter of time.

* * *

 

 

“Elsa,” he said one afternoon as they sat on the plush windowseat, his arms wrapped around her waist, her back against his chest, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything I’ve done. I – I’ve been despicable. Perfectly evil. I can only try to atone for the sins I’ve committed, living with this burden every day.” His ungloved hand fumbled for hers and he tangled their fingers together.

“What are you saying?” said Elsa, half-laughing, turning in his embrace, her fingers slipping from his. She cupped his face in both her hands. “Hans, I know we haven’t had the easiest time, but you can’t live in the past.” Her lip twitched. “You’ve told me that often enough.”

“You’re different.” Hans pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen out of her waterfall braid. “Everything you've done, it doesn't come close to what I did. What I nearly did. Elsa, I...” He paused, mouth slightly open. Her thumb traced the line of his cheekbone. “Nearly did. I'm still here, and so is Anna,” said Elsa, her eyes focused on the movement of her thumb.

He caught her hand and pressed it to his lips, forcing her to look up. “Because you believed in me.”

“Because I... love you.”

It was the first time she had said it, and he smiled at the ensuing blush. “I love you too, Elsa. More than I can ever express.” He tipped her chin upwards so he could kiss her, and she responded eagerly, fingers threading through his hair, sloppy yet enthusiastic.

He surged forward and took control of the kiss. Despite having his back pressed to the wall, Hans moved forward and she yielded. He lay her on the windowseat.

“Hans – ” began Elsa, pushing feebly at his chest, but he started trailing kisses down her neck and her protests dissolved into soft gasps.

* * *

 

As her walls towards him came tumbling down, Hans was careful to make sure she rebuilt those facing the outside world, and that he was safely inside.

He, after all, had to replace Anna as the centre of her universe.

 

* * *

 

When she stormed from her council meeting, icicles marking her trail, Hans was at her side instantly. "Elsa, did something happen? What's wrong?" Her icy defences melted away to allow him access, and she buried her face in his chest. "I can't trust anyone," she confessed. "It's crazy, but..."

“No, it's not, Elsa.” In the circle of his arms, he felt her relax and sag against him. Hans pressed a kiss to her temple and combed out her braid with his fingers, knowing how much she loved it when he touched her hair. “Forget your council. They’re just a bunch of dusty old men.” _Standing in between me and your power_ , he added mentally.

“Hans!” Elsa laughed, hitting him lightly. “They served Father before me.”

“That doesn’t automatically make them the best men for the job. You are not your father, Elsa.” He was massaging her shoulders lightly, and she sighed as the tension began to bleed out of them.

Her furrowed brow gave way to a wicked smirk. “You wouldn’t be touching my father like this, would you?”

“Okay, that is truly a disturbing thought.” Hans turned her around, his thumbs pressing into the muscles of her back. “No, this is awkward. Let’s sit down.” He made for the chaise lounge, but her hand catching the edge of his shirt stopped him.

“Elsa?”

“Not there,” she said, looking anywhere but at him, her cheeks crimson with embarrassment. “Maybe… we could talk in my room?”

It took him a moment to fully comprehend, and then Hans smiled.

“… Of course, Elsa. As you wish.”

She only nodded, biting her lip, looking unsure of herself and more nervous than she had been in recent memory. Sticky hot lust boiled at his insides. Hans settled for bowing to her, every inch the courtly gentleman, and letting her lead the way.

He pretended not to see her hand trembling on the doorknob or feel her other hand growing cold in his.

The prince closed the door and locked it – they would not be disturbed. “Nice room,” he said silkily. Elsa merely nodded.

Without preamble, he patted the bed. She sat. “Relax,” he crooned, resuming his massage, refocusing his attention on her spine. Elsa sighed with pleasure.

“I can’t believe how tense I’ve been over these few days.” The queen leaned forward on her pillows, pushing her braid out of his way. “I – oh, yes, right there.”

Hans’ thumbs circled the knot in her back, gently but firmly easing the tight muscles. Now and then he allowed his fingers to graze exposed skin, as if by accident, relishing the involuntary sounds she made. Gradually he felt her grow tense again.

“Elsa? Is something wrong? Am I hurting you?” he asked innocently.

Her answer was to surge upwards, eyes dark, and kissing him passionately. Hans moaned into her mouth, letting her arms wrap around his neck, letting himself fall on the bed. “Elsa,” he groaned, and abruptly the spell broke.

She drew back, eyes wide with embarrassment. “Hans – I’m sorry, I – ” Ice was beginning to spread over the room, and he ignored it.

“Elsa.” He reached out and she darted away, fumbling with the lock; it took several tries to unlock it because it was slippery with ice.

“Please go. I’m sorry.”

He rose stiffly and walked over to where she stood, shaking and refusing to meet his eyes. “Elsa – ”

“Just go!”

Hans firmed his jaw and left. The door crackled behind him, ice freezing it shut, warping the wood.

* * *

 

Although she had made significant progress, Elsa was still a long way from being able to give herself to her passions; Hans was determined to assist the process as much as possible, and continue making her fall in love with him.

 

He had had plenty of experience with other girls - not even including the Princess Anna - with varying degrees of success, but this time the stakes were so much higher.

 

* * *

 

His hand was on the door of Elsa’s study when the angry voice from within made him pause.

“ – too much freedom!”

Elsa’s reply was inaudible. Her companion snorted loudly.

“He isn’t your prisoner anymore, Elsa. I know.”

Hans listened carefully, secretly thrilling.

“You _what_? You – I can’t believe you! He tried to kill _you_!”

Before Elsa could finish talking, the other person cut in angrily: “No, he hasn’t changed _at all_. He’s a manipulative liar; he was right from the start, and he always will be… I thought you knew better than that.”

Footsteps grew louder, and the former prince was quick to move back as the door flew open and Anna stormed out. Hans waited until she had rounded the corner and her angry sobs had faded before entering.

“Elsa, are you alright?”

She knelt, in the same position she had been in on the frozen fjord, heartbreak and despair etched into her features. “Anna,” she said brokenly, “ _Anna_.”

“Elsa. Shhhh, I’m here.” Hans stooped to gather her into his arms, rocking her like a child. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Gradually her sobs ebbed away into nothing. He stood up, clutching Elsa to him. She squeaked. “Put me down, I’m perfectly capable of walking!”

He did. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insinuate otherwise.”

“… I know. I’m sorry too.” Elsa buried her face in his chest. “I just – ”

“You don’t need to explain anything,” he said carefully, and felt her stiffen. “I understand.”

“… Thank you.”

* * *

 

She was cool to him for the next few days, and he knew it was Anna’s influence. Elsa was still listening to her sister’s fears.

 

* * *

 

Hans remembered the exact moment he had won, and Anna had lost.

He had arrived in Elsa’s study as usual (from the room she had given him, and not his cell), and raised feminine voices from within told him that a battle was being waged. Hans knew better than to interrupt. Anna and Elsa didn't even glance at him as he entered.

“Just tell me the truth!” raged Anna, her hands balled into tight rigid fists.

“It’s already obvious – ”

“I know it is! I just want you to say it to my face.” Her lip quivered. “I deserve that, at the very least.”

Elsa did not sob helplessly; she did not stretch her arms out to Anna, seeking her sister’s love and comfort. Instead she straightened her back, tear tracks still glinting on her cheeks, her expression going cold. “Fine. Anna, Hans and I are together. I love him – ” the queen glanced at Hans, smiling briefly “– and he loves me.”

Anna glared at him, her eyes equal parts anguish and fury. “How can you be sure? Elsa, he tried to kill you!”

“I trust him.” She crossed the room and took his hand. Hans offered her a soft smile, squeezing her fingers. “He’s changed.”

“It’s all a lie. Everything he says is a lie.” The princess pointed a shaking finger at Hans. “I _know_ he’s planning something – Elsa, you should know what he did to me, he’s doing it again to you.”

“Are you even listening to yourself, Anna? You keep repeating the same old tired arguments.” Elsa closed her eyes; when she opened them again, they were filled with a weary pity. “I love him,” she said simply.

Anna’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. All colour drained from her face as she turned and fled from the room.

The queen’s breakdown was more composed, but she crumpled against Hans, and he held her as her body shook with harsh sobs.

 

* * *

 

In the wee hours, he heard urgent footsteps in the corridor. Hans, fully-dressed, calmly put aside his book and lit more candles in anticipation of his visitor.

Anna didn’t break stride as she flung his door open and seized him by the front of his jacket; she was strong, and he felt the thick fabric tighten over his chest, choking him.

“Stop it,” she whispered, and abruptly burst into tears. He took advantage of her distraction to free himself; immaculately gloved hands brushed out the wrinkles in his lapels.

“Stop what?”

“Taking Elsa from me.”

Hans shook his head slowly. “You selfish, _selfish_ little brat,” he said calmly, and Anna’s head snapped up in surprise. “Elsa belongs to _you_? Just who do you think you are?”

“Better than you,” she shot back. “I _know_ you’re planning something. You don’t love Elsa; you want her crown.”

“How do you know that for sure?” He wasn’t about to come completely clean with Anna yet, despite his candidness over the past few months; even now, as the balance tipped in his favour, Hans was determined not to count the princess out of the game yet. She had come back from the dead to thwart him once before. “Why won’t you believe the possibility that I’ve changed for the better, redeemed by your sister’s love?”

She looked physically sick at his oily words. “Because I’ve seen the real you that day.” Anna’s eyes shone fervently in the candlelight. “I looked into those eyes and saw how empty you really are. You haven’t changed for the better, Hans, because there isn’t anything in you left to change.”

He blinked. “Empty? My dear princess, I’m a living human being. God created us all in his image with souls of our own.”

“Not you. You’re a demon from hell.”

"Strong words.”

“But true.” She bit her lip. “Even if Elsa can’t see all that, I do, and I will never stop fighting you. I will protect her, no matter what it takes.”

“She’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She doesn’t need someone deciding what’s right and wrong for her, especially not a selfish, naïve little girl like you.”

“I – ”

“No one – not even me – doubts that you love Elsa most in this world, but just who are you to choose for her? A sheltered, _foolish_ , little princess – ”

“Stop.”

“– who grew up in isolation, away from the _world_ – ”

“No.”

“ – and who thought herself so pathetic and sad because her sister didn’t want to play with _her_ ,” snarled Hans. “You were this puppy, so desperate for affection, that you practically threw yourself at the first man to smile at you, babbling about true love and marriage like it was a game. A perfect fantasy constructed from story books.”

“Don’t forget why Elsa ran away in the first place – you threw a tantrum when she wouldn’t give us her blessing. Can you imagine how she must have felt? Years spent hiding to protect you from herself, and you, her precious little sister, turned on her for some man you only just met.”

“And the entire rescue operation with the ice man? A complete farce; I was the one who brought Elsa back. You got your own heart frozen with your clumsy ineptitude, and still you wouldn’t die. I had to do it myself – or at least try to.”

She was shaking her head slowly, hands clapped to her ears as though she could block out the venom of his words.

“Heaven alone knows how you got out of that room – but I’m guessing you didn’t do it yourself – and you stopped me from killing Elsa. That was probably the only thing you did right in your entire life,” he spat, face twisted in his anger.

Anna had sunk to her knees; he knelt and seized her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“And then what? Winter ended, villain defeated, so you run off with yet another man you’d only just met, leaving your sister alone again. Take a look at yourself for once, Anna, and tell me if you like what you see.”

A high-pitched wail issued from her mouth. Hans extinguished the candles and left the room, spending the night in sleepless roaming through the castle halls. A good part of the time was spent in the silent, cold ballroom where Arendelle’s throne sat.

* * *

 

He hated it when women cried. The harsh, wet sobbing repulsed him; their tears distorted their features, making them hideous.

His mother cried a lot. His father didn’t visit them because he hated it.

 

* * *

 

He dared knock on Elsa’s door early in the morning, just after the steward had come to wake the queen. “Kai? Is that you?” called her voice uncertainly. “I’m already up.”

“It’s me.” He let himself in, surreptitiously locking the door behind him.

“Hans.” Shyly, she came forward and hesitated a moment, hands clasped before her; before she could move, he cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her. He laughed as she blushed, mumbling, “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you.” The circle of his arms tightened as Hans coaxed her closer. “After yesterday, I just – ”

“I’m fine,” she said hastily. Elsa rested against him briefly, and then jerked away. “Anna. I need to apologise.”

"Calm down, Elsa. You have plenty of time,” he chuckled. “It’s far too early in the morning; you know Anna won’t be up until the crack of noon.”

It took a few heartbeats, but the tension in her face slowly ebbed away. “Kai practically has to batter down her door before she’ll get up.”

Hans laughed indulgently. “There, you see. You have plenty of time.” He glanced out the window. “It’s a beautiful day today; after breakfast, will you walk with me?”

“Walk? I have work to do – the council – ”

“ – will take care of itself for one day.” The prince had both of her hands in his, and he was leading her out. “Forget breakfast! You need sunlight; you’re too pale, my lady.” His mood was infectious, and soon Elsa was laughing as well.

“Hans! You’re acting like a child!”

“It’s the weather, I swear – you don’t get much summer here, don’t you?”

Hans enjoyed good weather as much as any sun-deprived Northerner did; but on this particular occasion, he couldn’t care less if it were sunny or snowing. He simply wanted Elsa away from the castle, where Anna couldn’t find her and make amends.

* * *

 

Anna’s peasant came down from the mountains that evening to find her mired in self-hatred and guilt; like Anna, he waited until late at night to avoid hurting Elsa.

“You bastard,” he snarled through gritted teeth; clad his in rough clothing, he looked exactly like a rabid bear.

Hans eyed him coolly. “I may be thirteenth and most reviled, but my parents were wedded before God, thank you.”

"You’ve hurt Anna – ”

“I’ve not physically harmed her. I haven’t even raised a hand to her.”

Kristoff shook a fist at him, mouth trembling with the sheer force of his anger. “I know what you’re trying to do; you and your word games. Anna told me everything about you.”

“Does that mean you’re as convinced as she is that I’m a demon incarnate?” Hans threw back his head and laughed. “Just like she’s convinced Elsa?”

The ice harvester didn’t lose his temper as Hans had expected. Drawing back his shoulders, he merely settled into icy calm, though his eyes still blazed. “I believe her.”

“Of course you would,” replied Hans dismissively. He stood like a king, feet apart, hands linked behind his back, shoulders stiff with arrogance. “Is there anything else you want to say to me?”

“Just this.” He brought his face close, attempting to make use of his greater height to intimidate Hans by forcing the prince to look up to maintain eye contact; Hans continued to stare straight ahead. “In the end, your sins will catch up with you, as they always have.”

Hans pressed his lips together into a thin line. “Good night, Master Bjorgman.”

* * *

 

“You haven’t spoken to Anna yet?”

“Not since the other day,” admitted Elsa. She was seated at her desk as usual, but the piles of paperwork had grown exponentially. She looked tiny surrounded by the dunes. “I’ve been too busy.”

Hans picked up a sheaf, scanning the text. “This is trivial,” he commented, and set it to one side. “Your council should be handling this, not you.”

“I haven’t convened the council in two weeks.”

Hans bit his lip, fighting not to let his exultation show on his face. “Two weeks? Why not?”

“I just – I don’t trust anyone anymore.” The young woman sighed, pulling another document closer – and was interrupted by a hand on hers.

“Elsa. You can’t shut the world out.”

“I know!” Ice shot out from her chair; Hans dodged neatly. “Believe me, I’ve tried. But it's so hard to believe anything anyone says these days.” She ran a hand through her fringe. “My council… Gerda and Kai… Kristoff… even Anna… they tell me all these things, and I can’t help but wonder if they really mean them, if they ever cared about me at all.” The last few words were spoken in a whisper.

“Elsa, no. No no no.” Hans perched on the arm of her chair, drawing her to him, his hands smoothing her hair away from her face. “Don’t hate them for my sake, please… I’m not worth it.”

“Not worth it?” She jerked away as though she had been slapped. “Hans, how could you say that?”

“I tried to kill you and Anna, and steal the throne. I understand if they don’t trust me. They care about you, Elsa, don’t doubt them. Don’t let me come between you and them.” He stood up, walked over to the window. “Send me away, in chains – yes, I think that’s best. I’m sure you can find a ship that can drop me off at the Southern Isles…”

She had crossed the room in quick strides, and then slapped him hard.

“Stop it,” said Elsa, voice quivering, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. “Hans, I would never abandon you. You’ve been here for me. I believe in you, that you’ve changed. I… I trust you. I love you.”

“Oh, Elsa.” He dropped his gaze, shoulders slumping, apparently overcome with emotion; in reality, he was hiding a triumphant smirk. “I don’t deserve any of this. I’ll go – ”

“You will not.”

His old shackles returned, with a matching pair for his ankles. Hans glared at her. “So you’ll keep me a prisoner for the rest of my life? Is that it?”

“Of course not! I just don’t want you doing anything stupid!”

“This isn’t stupid. This is the best solution for everyone.”

“Not for me.” She closed her eyes, anger vanishing, and his chains melted away. “If you left, Hans, I… I don’t know what I’d do. I need you.”

He took her hands in his. “… You have me. Always.”

“Always?”

“I promise.” He bent his head, pressed his lips to hers, and felt her wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him closer still. Elsa was the one to deepen the kiss, and he knew the right time had come.

He backed them out until her knees pressed against their couch, and gave way; they tumbled, panting from lack of air. “Elsa,” he murmured in between trailing kisses down her neck. Elsa threw her head back to allow him better access. She gasped as his fingers worked around her legs, found bare heated skin. Her hands were tangled in his hair, tugging whenever he grazed a sensitive spot.

Hans paused when he reached her thighs, glancing at her. “I trust you, Hans,” she said immediately, and he smirked.

She was wearing her usual ice dress but it was beginning to melt under his ministrations. He lapped over her bodice as it vanished bit by bit, laving each inch of silky skin as it was revealed. His hands skimmed up her body, over her hips, and she shivered.

Elsa’s back arched as he took a nipple into his mouth, nails raking his back. “Please – ”

His hand tugged aside her soaking underwear, fingers dipping into her heat. She moaned – Hans muffled it by crashing his mouth to hers, their teeth clacking together.

She was so very inexperienced; once his thumb found the spot between her legs and stroked, she was already crying out, body shuddering in the throes of an orgasm. Tears ran down her cheeks. He kissed them away.

Hans was still fully clothed. She was in no condition to conjure a new dress for herself, so he took off his jacket and wrapped her in it. “My love,” he breathed, lying down with her. Elsa said nothing, but she clung to him, her tears freezing on the skin of his neck.

* * *

 

Anna seemed to know what they had done, what he had done to her. When Elsa came down to breakfast, the clipped “Good morning,” that had been on the princess’ lips died away, and she clamped her words away like they were secrets.

Elsa paled, but before she could flee, Hans’ hand insinuated itself in hers. She seemed to draw comfort from him, and she sat in her usual place.

“Good morning, Princess Anna,” said Hans placidly as though nothing was happening; not a word was spoken between the sisters, but the tension in the atmosphere spoke volumes for them. “Isn’t Master Bjorgman joining us this morning?”

“He left for the ice lake before sunrise,” answered Anna, face screwed up as though biting into a lemon.

“I see.” Smiling absently, he bit into a slice of bread.

 

* * *

 

She caved in to him in so many ways after her walls finally broke down. The more Elsa sought to lose herself in him, the more she fought with Anna, and it only drove her back to him in a vicious circle.

When leaving her room in the dead of the night, Hans would hear muffled sobbing, from someone with a heart too big, trying to keep it all in.

 

* * *

 

He ran into Anna once in those days. Most of the fire had died out of her glare, leaving only the cold embers of a frozen heart.

 The prize was his.


	3. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I greet you from the other side  
> Of sorrow and despair  
> With a love so vast and shattered  
> It will reach you everywhere
> 
> For the heart with no companion  
> For the soul without a king  
> For the prima ballerina  
> Who cannot dance to anything 
> 
> Through the days of shame that are coming  
> Through the nights of wild distress  
> Tho' your promise count for nothing  
> You must keep it nonetheless
> 
>  _Heart With No Companion_ – Leonard Cohen

He had won.

And now what?

He had only won battles so far, and not the war; Anna was beaten but he knew he couldn’t count her out. Elsa was his, body and mind, but not her soul. Hans could feel it in the way she would grow melancholy at times, and when he entered her room, she would turn to him with a hasty smile, tears still wet on her cheeks.

She was still not his, and neither was her crown.

* * *

Elsa passed an edict that pardoned Hans for his crimes; naturally, it did not sit well with the rest of Arendelle.

“Your Majesty – ” The lone council member that had dared speak up fell silent as his queen glanced coldly at him.

“Yes, Baron Halogaland?”

“Even if you have pardoned him, Westergaard is a former member of the Southern Isles’ royal house and still subject to his homeland’s laws. He will have to be sent back if he is no longer serving his sentence here.”

“As you have pointed out, he is a former member of the Southern Isles,” said Elsa. “He has been stripped of his citizenship for his crimes. Along with my royal pardon, I am also granting him Arendellian citizenship and with it, the chance to atone for his sins.”

The baron paled. “My queen, is this wise?”

“It is my decision.” She got to her feet, her expression imperious and remote. “It is not your place to question it.”

“O-of course. My apologies.” He dipped his head. “But Queen Elsa – if I may speak so familiarly – your father would not have approved.”

“My father is dead,” said Elsa sharply. “I am Queen now. Baron Halogaland, you have served my father faithfully for many years; I will overlook your transgression now because of that. Remember that I will not be so lenient next time.”

“… Yes, Your Majesty.”

* * *

 

As she grew more comfortable with him, he spent less time in his room and more in hers.

He lounged in her bed like it was his own; carelessly, not caring if he mussed the sheets. When she came in, Elsa closed the door with a sharp click; instead of locking it, she iced the bolt over. He raised an eyebrow.

“Had a bad day?”

The queen looked up. “Hans,” she said, smiling for the first time that day.

“You’re late,” he scolded lightly, padding over to kiss her. “I expected you to come to bed hours ago.”

“I was finishing up some work. I don’t trust any of them to do it properly…”

“You need your rest, Your Majesty.” His fingers were already busy with her clothing – she was wearing real fabrics today, which he disliked; her ice dress was so simple to melt off.

Elsa laughed. “This isn’t very restful,” she said, but she was letting him lead her to the bed. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down with her.

Hans raised an eyebrow. “Still energetic, my queen?”

She made no reply, tugging impatiently on his hair. He dipped her head to kiss her hard, just as she rose to meet him. Her hands fumbled with the ties of her dress; he playfully batted them away, laughing at the put-out expression she wore.

“I’ve waited all day to do this; just relax, and enjoy yourself,” growled Hans into her ear, tugging off the layers of clothing impatiently. His hands cupped her breasts and squeezed - she arched into him with a breathless cry - and Hans bent to kiss the inside of her silky thighs. Elsa sighed. He pushed his face further in, nestling in the slit in the underwear. “Please allow me – ” Hans pressed his teeth to the inside of her leg, right beside her lower lips, “– to show you – ” his tongue darted out, and her body shuddered with anticipation, “– how much I adore you.” He licked again, dragging his tongue over her clit, deliberately dawdling. “I would never betray the trust you hold in me. I’m grateful, so grateful, that you gave me this second chance.”

“Nnnnf – _Hans_ – ”

“You believed in me.” He lapped around her clit, short hard strokes that elicited more moaning. “You don’t need to say anything.” His fingers toyed with the opening just below. “Let me serve you, my beloved queen.”

She moaned as his tongue hit a particular spot and shivers of delight ran up her spine. Elsa’s speech was reduced to incoherent sounds and sighs, and he smirked. His mouth still working, Hans thrust one finger in first, pumping in and out, darting glances at her face; her head thrown back, Elsa’s expression was completely blank and visceral. His smirk widened.

He added another finger. She moaned. “Ha–aaaaannn _sss_ – ” The last syllable of his name was dragged out and screamed.

“That was amazing,” gasped Elsa after a few long moments of unintelligible groans and sighs, in which he took the opportunity to wipe his mouth on the bedsheets.

“You’re amazing,” he replied, crawling to her on his hands and knees, so that he hovered over her prone form.

“You’re still dressed…” Elsa reached for the front of his breeches, flushing as her fingers brushed the bulge at the front. Hans smiled. “So you can undress me, Your Majesty. My queen.” He lowered himself to meet her, lavishing kisses on her neck, successfully distracting her from her task.

“Stop that,” she sighed, a little moan escaping her lips. “I’m trying… to work here.”

“I’m not doing anything you wouldn’t want me to do.” Shifting his weight to his left hand, his right grabbed the bunched-up dress around her hips, tugging it upward. Elsa caught on and lifted her hips, pulling her arms back so he could bring it over her head and toss it away.

“Let me see you,” he panted, sitting up on his haunches so both his hands could fumble with the ties on her underwear. “I want to see all of you.”

“Hans – ”

“Elsa, please.”

He practically tore away her underwear, and she lay exposed before him; he caught her hands before she could cover herself.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, and she blushed. “I mean it, Elsa. Every word.”

“You never used to call me Elsa,” she said, sighing as he laid open-mouthed kisses on her neck and collarbone. “In the beginning. It was always – _ah_ – Your Majesty and my queen.”

“It didn’t feel right.” Hans caressed the lines of her hips, ghosting over the smooth planes of her belly and thighs. “You were so composed, so dignified. Regal. It felt less than respectful.”

“And now? What’s changed?”

“Right now?” he asked with a little smirk, and she turned magenta, finally prompting him to laugh.

“Y-you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Of course.” His mouth moved lower. “Things between us changed, naturally,” he said in between kisses pressed to her breasts; she moaned softly. “You let me in. I fell in love with you, the real you that was hidden behind years of fear.”

“Mmm.” Elsa arched her back, sighing as his tongue lapped at a sensitive spot. “I love you.”

“And I you,” he said, his eyes never leaving the tiara that still clung to her hair.

* * *

 

He was woken with a start. “Elsa?” he mumbled, still half-asleep. “What’s wrong?” She whimpered, and he was instantly alert.

“Elsa.”

Their room was frosted over, ice splitting the carved headboard and posts of their bed; she lay on her side facing away from him, curled into a tight ball. She was sobbing in her sleep.

Hans leaned over, shaking her shoulder. “Elsa, wake up. It’s just a nightmare.”

Elsa made a tiny muffled sound. “Mama, please don’t go. Papa, I promise I’ll hide it. I’ll conceal it from everyone.”

“Elsa, it’s me, Hans. Wake up.”

“Don’t touch me!”

“Ah!” He fell back, clutching his hand, now encased in a block of ice. Her eyes flew open when he cried out.

“Hans…? Hans!” She scrambled to him, accidentally freezing more of the room in her anxiety. It took her three tries to dissipate the ice from his hand, and thaw the entire place.

“I’m fine,” he grunted, furiously wiggling his fingers and rubbing them to get the warmth and sensation back.

“I-I’m so sorry, Hans, I…” She made as though she would touch him, but thought better of it; Elsa wrapped her arms around herself, shrinking back against the bed.

“Elsa, no. Don’t blame yourself.” Ignoring the pain in his hand, he went to her, holding out his arms to her. “Come here.”

She shook her head, tears pouring down her cheeks, her eyes wide with fear.

“You didn’t mean to hurt me. We both know that. You were having a nightmare. I love you, Elsa.”

“No,” she rasped. “I’m dangerous – I just keep hurting everyone around me. P-please don’t touch me, Hans – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – ”

“Hush.” He scooted closer and scooped her into her arms, ignoring her token protests. “I don’t care, Elsa. I love you, and I’m not letting you go through this alone.” Hans cupped her face, forced her to face him. “Look at me. Please.”

Hesitantly, she did.

“I trust you. I know you can’t control it sometimes, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault. I’ve seen how hard you try, and you’re so strong, you can’t just keep it under control all the time.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, ignoring the freezing cold of her skin. “I forgive you. It was an accident. You didn’t mean to.”

Elsa’s shoulders shook, and she clung to him. He rocked her, knowing she would be fine by morning.

* * *

 

Anna’s presence was made conspicuous by the lack thereof.

She was infrequently present for mealtimes, preferring the company of Kristoff.

Hans didn’t care.

By and by, Elsa wouldn’t either.

* * *

 

She swept into their – not just hers anymore – room. The servants maintained his room despite the fact he was hardly ever there; appearances had to be kept up. It was bad enough the queen had pardoned a traitor; the people would scandalized if they knew she was keeping him in her bed.

Hans immediately put his book down, sensing her turbulent mood, and was by her side in an instant.

"Elsa, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Anna," she said, valiantly holding back the tears. "She doesn't look at me the same way anymore. I just... I've been so used to having her outside the door all these years, but now..." Elsa drew a shuddering breath. “She passed me in the corridor and she… she just _looked_ right through me as though I wasn’t there – ”

"Shhh." He encircled her waist with his arms, cleverly giving her the option of falling into him, or pushing him away. "You're just tired, you don't know what you're saying." Elsa barely glanced at him, her eyes vacant. Hans tried another tack.

"When was the last time you slept, my queen?" His hands glided up to her shoulders, gently turning her around. Thumbs worked the taut muscles in soothing strokes. "Please take care of your health, if not for my sake, then the kingdom's."

She rubbed at an eye with the back of her hand, a small sound escaping her lips as he worried a particularly sore spot. "I slept last night – "

"– only a few hours. I saw you; you lit the candles and went back to work."

"Arendelle doesn't run itself," she snapped, pushing him away, and then went quiet. Elsa had her back to him as though ready to walk away, but she had stopped. The queen’s shoulders were hunched forward and he knew she was also biting her lip, gnawing the flesh in her nervousness. "Hans..."

"Shhh. It's fine, my beloved," he said quietly, turning her back around to face him, cradling her face between his fingertips. He dabbed away at errant tears with his gloves. "There's nothing to forgive. You need rest. No working late into the night, is that clear?"

“Yes,” Elsa murmured. The young man kissed her forehead.

“I have something for you.” He reached for a bottle on the nightstand. “A sleeping draught.”

“I don’t need it,” she protested, “I can sleep just fine; anyway – ”

“Anyway what? You need to work late into the night?”

Elsa’s eyes flashed; she met his hard gaze and held it. The clash of wills lasted for a few moments before she softened. Hans shook his head.

“Elsa, you can’t go on like this.”

“I can and I will. If I could lock myself away to protect the people I love for thirteen years…”

“You shouldn’t have had to.” Instead of getting angry, Hans looked defeated. “So damned noble even at that age, Elsa. Damn you.”

She made no response.

“You will take the draught tonight if I have to force you.”

“I will not!” The ice flared with her anger, and he took a step back. The regret on her face immediately after was heartbreaking, and the hard angry lines of Elsa’s body vanished. “Please Hans, don’t force me.”

“I’m not forcing you – I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want to,” he promised. “But this is for your own good, Elsa. I love you, and I don’t want to see you suffer.”

“… Fine,” she bit out. “Just for tonight.”

Hans exhaled sharply. “This shouldn’t have had to be a battle, Elsa.”

She resembled a cornered wild animal for a moment, but she downed the sleeping draught in one swallow. “Good girl,” he crooned, taking the empty bottle from her hand and helping her into bed. “I’ll see you in the morning, my love.”

The young woman nodded, her eyelids already drooping, expression relaxing into blankness. She was asleep even before her head could touch the pillow, sagging into Hans’ arms. His smile widened.

“That was fast,” he said aloud, slipping into bed beside her, leaning over to caress her hair. Elsa didn’t respond. She lay motionless, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling gently. In the dim light of the room, the dark circles under her eyes became more prominent even against her pale skin. Hans frowned; the light picked out too-prominent cheekbones, revealing a woman too thin to be healthy.

"Elsa? Can you hear me?" Hans nudged her cheek; her head tilted to the side, exposing her neck. He moved closer, near enough to graze her skin with his breath. "Are you asleep, my dearest?" When she made no response, he wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her flush against his body. Her head lolled towards him, her blank face tilted up, lips parted slightly.

"I like you best this way," he whispered, climbing over her and straddling her waist, planting his knees on either side of her thighs. "My perfect porcelain doll." He bent forward, kissing her, caressing her, his hands spanning her face, neck, body.

His hands ran lower still, finding the hem of her nightgown and pushing it upwards to her hips, pushing her legs apart for easier access to her centre. "Will you dance for me, my doll?" Lowering himself on his forearms, hovering over her prone form, he kissed her jaw. He reached out, tilted her face back to his, and pressed his mouth to hers, forcing his tongue in between slack lips. Her breathing grew ragged, but Elsa slept on.

Meanwhile, his other hand was not idle; his thumb swiped at the modest undergarments she wore under her nightgown; he repeated his ministrations until he felt her grow wet and hot, her hips moving in her sleep. Her nipples stood out against the flimsy material of her nightgown; he fumbled for the bunched-up fabric at her waist and tugged upwards still.

Hans eased her head out, bending to trail kisses over each slender arm as he exposed it to the air. The nightgown, finally free of her body, was roughly tossed to a corner. Elsa’s undergarments were torn from her knees, and his prize lay sprawled before him.

“Elsa,” he murmured. Like a man bewitched, Hans pressed open-mouthed kisses to her face.

"Uhhh..." she murmured, but did not wake. Her head tilted upwards, exposing more of the creamy skin of her throat to him. Hans suckled, letting his tongue and lips taste all of her.

"I hope you're dreaming of me," he whispered harshly into her ear, biting down on the earlobe, soothing it with a kiss immediately after. "Such a naughty, eager girl." He abandoned his teasing of her nether regions – prompting a soft moan from her – and slid his hand up her legs, over her belly, and onto her breast; her wetness marked a trail where his fingers had been. Expertly, he rolled and pinched an already firm nipple between his fingers. Her chest heaved in response.

He was panting himself. Nevertheless, he remained enraptured by her ragged breathing, her parted lips, her hair tousled by her shifting, even the faint sheen of sweat covering her alabaster skin. He'd never expected to have to seduce such a beautiful woman on his way to the throne, and what a beauty she was.

Especially unconscious, her half-naked form spread out beneath him.

"Mine," purred Hans. He sat up on his haunches; better to enjoy the feast laid out before him.

Her legs were spread obscenely from his probing, an open invitation to him. Hans watched, fascinated, as her breasts rose and fall in shaky rhythm, her face and shoulders flushed with heat from her fevered dreams.

He started from her lips.

His kiss started slow, and then descended into passionate frenzy as he tasted her, sucking on her tongue, catching her lip between his teeth. Her hands lay limp at her sides; it was a little disconcerting at first to not have her kiss him back, but it excited him more to know she was completely at his mercy.

He could be a merciful king to those that submitted to his authority.

He trailed kisses over her jaw and down her neck, his hands toying with her breasts. "Annnh," sighed Elsa, her legs coming together as she moved, apparently trying to seek relief from the sensations he was inducing in her. Hans felt a fierce surge of pride.

"Oh no, my dearest," he said softly, forcing apart her legs with a hand on the top of one thigh. "I will satisfy you soon. Patience."

Her lips parted, and she uttered broken sounds and whimpers; his thumb rubbed teasing circles on her skin. Hans lowered his head and licked down the column of her neck, his teeth pressing her throat gently.

Slowly, almost tenderly, he worked his way down her body, over her breasts, belly, and thighs. His hands stayed pressed to Elsa’s hips, holding them as they juddered irregularly, seeking release in her dreams. The first touch of his finger to her folds drew a clumsy buck from her hips. Elsa, her face flushed, hair dampened with sweat, sighed but remained still.

It pleased him to see her, always so prim and proper, falling apart in his arms as he dominated her, controlled her body. Queen by day, but his by night.

He had used his mouth on her before to show her how much he loved her. She wasn’t awake to watch now, and hence he wasn’t going to bother with putting on the show. Elsa was asleep, and he would put his pleasure first, getting his first taste of that promised reward that was so close now. At this juncture, his patient ministrations were enough to arouse her; brushing his finger against her opening had shown her wet and ready for him.

He yanked off his breeches with a grunt, wincing as the waist caught on his fully-erect member. Pre-cum was already leaking from the tip.

Holding himself over her, Hans positioned his penis over her entrance and slid in. There was resistance as he broke her maidenhead but it didn’t last long; Elsa whimpered and he bent his head, nipping her lower lip roughly.

Once fully in, Hans began rocking his hips, setting up a steady rhythm, grunting softly with the effort; Elsa’s breath came in shuddering gasps, which he ignored. Finally he cried out as he came, the thrusts becoming irregular and clumsy as he emptied his seed into her.

Hans slid out and rolled to the side to rest, completely spent. “Mine,” he panted to no one in particular.

He had taken her virginity, and she wasn’t even awake for it.

“If only I loved you,” he murmured.

 

* * *

 

Elsa woke late the next morning refreshed, if curiously sore in her private parts; the thought made her blush. She pushed it to the back of her mind.

“Hans?”

He poked his head in. “My queen, you’re awake.” Hans sat on the bed, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “Good morning.”

“Is it still morning?”

He laughed. “Barely, but yes.”

She smiled, but it quickly slipped from her face. Hans stopped laughing. “My love, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry for yesterday, Hans,” Elsa mumbled, her fingers twisting in the sheets, frost gradually stiffening the material. “I know you only care about my well-being. I shouldn’t have fought with you.”

“It’s already forgotten.” The young man reached for her hands; she stiffened in surprise, but let his warmth melt away the fresh ice. “I can never stay angry at you, Elsa.”

“Thank you.” Tears welled in her eyes and were furiously swiped away; Hans chuckled and enfolded her in a hug. “Do you feel better now?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I slept well.”

His smile widened. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

 

* * *

 

By and by she felt comfortable enough to reintroduce him to the Arendellian court – not as her suitor, but as a member – and Hans swallowed his ire. It was a big step from prisoner to nobleman, and he was certainly grateful; what he found difficult to tolerate were the snide comments made behind his back, and the not-so-discreet glances shot his way. The servants disapproved of him, particularly the older ones who had known Elsa from birth, and they showed it in the smallest ways. Their polite insubordination drove him crazy.

Elsa did her best to ameliorate them, but popular disdain of him was too well-seated, too widespread, for her to have any major effect. Only her father’s memory, and the fondness the people held for Princess Anna, kept them in check under Elsa’s rule. Much to his disgust, her competency as a ruler and dedication mattered little.

It wouldn’t do to let the murmurings grow into something darker; he would have to take preemptive action.

 

* * *

 

“See that it is done before the end of the month.”

“Yes, Master Westergaard.”

Hans ground his teeth at the use of his family name – and more stingingly, the absence of his proper title – but said nothing.

 

* * *

 

He knocked on Elsa’s door, careful to avoid Anna’s signature rhythm. “Come in,” called Elsa.

“Good evening, my love.”

“Hans,” she said happily, pushing to her feet, kissing him hello. “Have you eaten dinner?”

“I came to invite you downstairs for it.”

“Oh,” said the queen, and blushed. “I must have forgotten.”

“No matter. We can go down together, and I can make sure you eat at least one proper meal today.” He neglected to mention that the servants wouldn’t serve him unless she was there.

She cast a long look at the dusty books on her desk. “It would be faster if I had Kai bring me a tray – I really do have a lot to get done.”

“Oh, come on, Elsa. I have a surprise for you,” he said in a sing-song voice.

“A surprise?”

“Yes.” He laughed as she made a grab for him, finally noticing he had something behind his back. “Now don’t spoil it!”

“Hans!” she said, half-laughing, half-exasperated; her hair was in a messy braid, fringe pushed out of her eyes with a hairband. Elsa’s eyes were bright with amusement.

It was during moments like these when Hans could pretend that he was truly in love with this beautiful, remarkable woman, and that he was nothing more than an ordinary man made complete by her love, like so many other fools in the world.

It passed.

He spun, keeping his hand pressed firmly behind his back; finally, she conjured ice ropes to hold him still and plucked the little box from his fingers with a cry of triumph. Elsa lifted to lid to find a ring adorned with a diamond, cut to resemble ice.

She clapped a hand to her mouth.

The ice released Hans. He dropped to one knee before her. “Elsa,” he began, “I know we haven’t had the most conventional of beginnings, and I know I’ve hurt you many times. Yet you persevered, and you believed in me. I can never repay you, nor show you all the love you deserve, but I would like to try for the rest of my life, if you would have me.”

“Are you asking me to marry you, you idiot?” breathed Elsa, who had been staring misty-eyed at Hans throughout his speech.

“… I guess so?” He furrowed his brow, suddenly looking very unsure. “I’m sorry if I’m not very good at it – oof!”

She had flung her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over. “Yes,” she whispered into his ear, her face almost as red as his hair, “a thousand times yes.”

* * *

 

He had insisted on holding the wedding and coronation as quickly as possible. He personally wrote invitations to each of his twelve older brothers, signing himself King Hans of Arendelle.

“King Consort,” she chided, tugging on his sideburn. Hans forced a smile.

“If we want to be absolutely correct, yes.” The reinstated prince tugged on his fiancée’s elbow, pulling her into his lap for a kiss.

“Hans! Not in broad daylight!” she giggled, half-heartedly trying to scramble off his lap.

“Why not? You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, and I the luckiest man,” he beamed, his hands clasped around her waist. “We couldn’t be happier if we tried.”

* * *

 

Anna hadn’t taken the news of their engagement well.

“I refuse to give you my blessing, Elsa,” she spat, mouth twisting into a ghastly grin at the irony. “You can’t marry him.”

“Anna, please.” Red seeped down Elsa’s fingers where her nails were digging into her palm. “You and he are all I have left. Please, for my sake – ”

“Everything I’ve done has been for _your_ sake! All I’ve ever wanted, all my life, was my sister back. And he is taking you from me for all the wrong reasons. He doesn’t love you, Elsa!”

The queen took a deep breath. “If you love me, Anna, you’ll have to accept him.”

Anna’s expression didn’t waver. “I don’t even know if I do anymore.”

The anguish in Elsa’s eyes was enough to alarm Hans into movement, convinced he could hear the sound of her heart breaking. “That’s enough, you’re upsetting her,” he said firmly, stepping in between the sisters. “Your Highness, would you grant me the honour of speaking to you later, in private – ”

“No, I will not. It’s not necessary.” She was shaking, her face pale enough to see her freckles standing out in sharp relief. “I’m going.”

The princess walked out. She heard Hans’ cry, heard the sound of a body toppling, heard the man alternately begging Elsa to wake up and calling for a doctor.

Anna heard it all, and felt nothing as her heart finally froze over, months after Elsa had first struck it.

* * *

 

“I suppose this means you’ve won.”

Hans resisted the urge to gloat. “Your sister is not a prize to be competed for.”

“No,” agreed Anna, “too much is at stake. You need the weight of the crown on your head and the kingdom at your feet, in addition to the prize.”

He stared at her, unwilling to dignify her words with an answer.

Anna gave a hollow laugh. She had lost weight; her old dress hung on her frame. “But you’re not happy, aren’t you?”

“After all you’ve said about my winning,” said Hans dryly, “I fail to see what you mean.”

She snorted. “You don’t know what happiness feels like. No human being can do what you’ve done, and feel true happiness.”

"It depends on what you choose to give you that happiness," said Hans, and smiled thinly.

* * *

 

In the days leading up to the engagement party, Elsa became more and more withdrawn, and was prone to bursting into tears for the smallest of reasons, and sometimes for no reason at all. It vexed Hans greatly, even though it was not the least of his burdens; with Anna unwilling to take over Elsa’s duties (or even to show up at all), it fell to Hans to handle daily administration.

He was happy to take the work, of course; what made it difficult was the castle staff’s willful non-cooperation, in silent protest of his perceived usurpation of Arendelle’s throne. If they had been difficult before, they were simply impossible now. His meals were forgotten or taken to the wrong rooms. His shaving water was either icy-cold or foul-smelling. There were a few times when he had to shout like a peasant at market just to get the attention of a suddenly-deaf maid.

That morning was routine, as always. He chaired a council meeting (pointedly ignoring Baron Halogaland’s efforts to patronize him) and signed a few more taxes into law – trade income was slowing, and he needed to boost revenue.

His work for the first part of the day done, Hans decided to search for his fiancée. “Elsa?” He wandered the corridors searching for her, a frown on his face; she very rarely was found away from her study or her room, and those places were empty.

Gerda appeared around the corner and he approached her. “Gerda, have you seen Her Majesty?”

The matronly woman fixed him with a long, uncomfortable stare. At length, when Hans was feeling thoroughly uncomfortable and on the verge of walking away, she replied: “I think I might have seen Her Majesty in the art gallery.”

“Very well. Thank you.” But the servant had bustled off without a backwards glance or by-your-leave, and Hans stood stupidly in a deserted corridor. His blood boiled in his veins – he was a prince, a member of a royal house, and soon to be King Consort of Arendelle – and ordinary servants were treating him like dirt.

He barely remembered where the art gallery was from the whirlwind tour Anna had given him what seemed like a lifetime ago, but he found it eventually. The door was ajar; the prince’s hand hovered over the handle for a moment, before yanking it open.

“Elsa, are you here?”

She was huddled on an upholstered chaise lounge, knees drawn up to her face, arms around her legs, shoulders shaking. Hans took a deep breath, allowing the irritation he felt to bleed away, and arranging his face into a mask of concern.

“Hey,” he said gently, sliding into the seat beside her, “what’s wrong?”

She looked up, and the blankness in her stare terrified him for several long moments; eventually recognition bled into her eyes, and he breathed again. “Hans,” she said, and smiled weakly. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, my love.” Hans reached out, cupped her cheek in his hand. There was much less flesh there than before, and he felt as though he was caressing a corpse. He didn’t pull away. “I was worried about you. Have you been here all day?”

“I was talking to Joan,” she informed him.

“Joan?”

“She talks to Anna a lot. I thought I should try it at least once.” Elsa turned her head, addressing the portrait. “Joan? You’ve yet to talk to me. Why? Is it because you’re mad at me?”

“Elsa,” said Hans.

“She just stares down at me. Like she’s seeing into me. I don’t understand. What have I done wrong? Is it because I hurt Anna?”

“Elsa.”

“She won’t talk to me, Hans. She hates me. They all hate me.” The terror in her face was painful to watch, and he grabbed her, clung to her fiercely as though he could physically hold body, mind, and soul together. She made strange, choking noises as she cried into his shoulder. Hans wondered if Elsa, the woman he knew, would last until their wedding day.

* * *

 

His mother was crazy sometimes. She had fits where she talked too much, too quickly, and sometimes not at all, for days on end.

As a boy, he used to sit with her, despite his brothers telling him the crazy was contagious; his presence seemed to soothe her.

He wondered now if he had been infected after all.

 

* * *

 

His wedding and coronation was in a week.

“What are you thinking about, my dearest?”

“Hmm?” Hans schooled his features into a smile. “Elsa, my love. I didn’t hear you come in.”

She giggled girlishly. “All the better to sneak up on you.”

He pecked her cheek. “Should I scream?”

“Don’t be silly.”

Her laughter gradually eased off into a sigh. Elsa leaned against him. “Our wedding. I can’t believe it’s happening.”

“Neither can I.” Idly, he stroked the back of her hand, relieved that it was one of her better days, and she wasn’t about to lash out at him.

“You’ll be my king, Hans. King Hans of Arendelle. And you didn’t need to kill me for it,” she said with a laugh.

“Believe me, this way is much more preferable.”

 

* * *

 

When the archbishop placed the simple coronet of wrought gold and Elsa’s own ice on his head, Hans stood proudly, wishing his brothers could see him now.

 

* * *

 

Candles glimmered in the dimmed bridal bedchamber, casting soft light over them. “My king,” she said, loosening his cravat, sliding the crimson silk from his neck. “Red always suited you.”

Hans raised an eyebrow. “Even now?” he asked teasingly. He liked to wear neutral colours like green and gray, letting the vivid auburn of his hair contrast strikingly with his clothing. However, he had been going prematurely grey at his temples. The prince was vain enough to hide it with dye, until Elsa had seen, and insisted she loved it.

“It compliments the grey.”

“That’s good. I was worried I would have to wear colours more befitting of my age.”

Elsa giggled. His formal jacket, bedecked with medals and ribbons and honours, was half-off, hanging from his shoulders in a sloppy manner. She leaned in to kiss him, her tongue pushing into his mouth; her fingers were threaded through his hair, tugging teasingly on his sideburns.

“I think you would look good in any colour you wore.”

He laughed. His gloves were already off, tossed to some distant corner to join hers, and he feverishly began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Elsa pouted, pushing away his hands and doing it herself. While she worked, Hans ran his fingers up her legs, starting from mid-thigh, pushing the material of her dress up and touching her hips until she shuddered.

“You’re eager, my queen.” In answer, she smirked, and pushed him back onto the bed. All his worries about her were gone in the face of her decaying-but-still-present beauty.

She was thin, too thin, but her eyes were alight in a way that he remembered from not so long ago. Even with her skin a shade too pale for his taste, and composed of too many angles, Hans remembered enough to smooth out her imperfections. Half-dressed, his breeches around his knees, it was clear how much he wanted her.

“Not as eager as you, it seems.”

Hans smiled, his cock twitching. Her self-confidence was much improved, and he found it incredibly arousing for her to take charge for once. He kicked off his boots and let her small hands tear his breeches off completely.

“You’re still dressed – oh!” The new king gasped as a warm mouth closed around the tip of his cock. He shuddered as her tongue ran over the skin, filling him with pleasurable sensations. “Do you like it?” she asked breathlessly, her voice a little muffled. Hans closed his eyes as the vibrations of her voice made him painfully erect. “God, Elsa.”

She smiled shyly, and took more of him into her mouth, easing herself on her knees and bracing her hands on the bed. While he panted, hips stuttering upward irregularly, she stroked his shaft, occasionally fondling his balls, all the while keeping up the steady movements of her tongue and lips.

“Elsa,” he grunted, “Elsa, I – _Elsa_ – ”

He moaned and thrust hard into her; his warm seed splashed into her mouth, and greedily, she swallowed every last drop of him. “That was fast,” she said thickly, climbing onto the bed, licking away the traces of him that lingered. “I haven’t even gotten a chance to show you more.”

“I haven’t gotten tired of you yet,” Hans reassured her, pulling her up onto the bed, planting kisses over her face and neck – being careful to avoid those glistening full lips – and lifting his hips up to press his rapidly stiffening length against her pelvis.

“Hans – ” Elsa began, suddenly a little girl. It was pathetic, the way she lay helplessly before him, her mouth still wet with his ejaculate.

“Shhh. Relax, Elsa, you’re doing wonderfully.” His hands were pushing at her thighs, spreading her legs for him.

She made a strangled little noise, chest heaving. “What if – what if I do something wrong, and you –”

“Just do what I tell you to, my love, there’s a good girl.” She nodded, and Hans smiled.

“I love you, Hans.”

“I know.” He braced himself over her on his elbows, the tip of his penis nudging at her opening.

“Do you trust me?” Hans sucked on her collarbone, tongue roughly caressing the skin until her breathing grew erratic.

“Y-yes.”

He thrust hard. She bucked, unused to the sensation, and cried out; Hans smothered it with his mouth in a bruising kiss. Elsa was no virgin – a fact unknown to all except himself – but she wasn’t accustomed to the fullness.

“Elsa,” he grunted. Hans kept his movements slow, letting her adapt, but her heat was wonderful, and he needed more friction. Her legs wrapped around his waist, giving him the leverage he needed.

“Hans, please.”

His hips started rocking, working into a frenzied pace. Elsa gasped with each thrust, attempting to match him.

With a groan, he came. He slipped out immediately after, smoothing Elsa’s hair from her sticky face, covering it with kisses.

“Elsa, my wife. My queen.”

“Hans,” she said, smiling weakly at him. “My husband. My king.”

He gathered her into his arms and let her press her face into the crook of his neck. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sore,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Elsa pushed against him, her expression stern. Queenly. “I know what sex is like.”

“If you’re tired, we could sleep…”

“No.” Her hand was trembling a little as she placed it on his chest, but her gaze was steady. She was blushing furiously again. “Please, Hans, make love to me again.”

“Are you sure?” Hans took her hand, pressed it to his lips.

“Yes.”

He was silent for a moment. “Here,” he said. He pressed his palms against the bed, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “Turn around.”

She complied, squeaking a little as his arms wrapped around her waist. “This might hurt a little,” said his voice in her ear, and then he hoisted her up and onto a familiar pressure. She gasped as he slid into her, little by little, the sound drawn out into a little groan.

“Elsa?”

“It’s fine,” she said breathlessly, “it feels good, feeling you in me like this – mnnnh – ” He was completely inside, and Elsa shifted a little, drawing a small sound from him. Hans’ hips jerked upward. She bounced on him, and the pleasurable fullness increased, now less intrusive. “Hans,” she half-groaned, half-mumbled.

He grunted in response, his arms still around her waist, his hips pumping into her rhythmically. Her head fell back on his shoulder as she let the sensations wash over her.

Hans was spent this time. “You’re amazing,” he mumbled, drowsy and satiated. Elsa let him pull her closer, his head falling back as he fell asleep.

Sex between married people was much less pleasurable for her than the things he did to her before marriage, but Elsa supposed that was the norm. They were married now – married! – and her husband deserved everything he got.

She watched him sleep. He was so good to her, and her first time had gone so well, despite the niggling feeling she had failed to please him.

Elsa promised him she would do better the next time. She kissed his cheek, and then fell asleep soon after.

 

* * *

 

The honeymoon period was only that in name; they were too busy, king and queen, ruling their kingdom to travel anywhere. None of his brothers, and her sister had shown up, and their wedding was marred somewhat. Most of the attendees were delegates from other kingdoms who couldn't afford to offend the Snow Queen, and people curious to see the most scandalous royal couple in Europe.

They spent their days in government and their nights tangled in the sheets, where he taught her more pleasures of the flesh, and she took her pleasure from pleasing him.

With her crown on his head, and his queen in his arms, Hans was happy.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere along the line as the magic began to fade, and familiarity bred contempt, Hans was gradually made aware of the shift in her feelings for him; they were in no way undiminished, and that also the problem. He had been so alert towards the opposite, he hadn’t realized this until it was too pronounced, too cloying. Elsa was like a prized rose bush, and he the over-zealous gardener; Hans had clipped away her thorns, her diseased branches, and finally the healthy ones until she was a shadow of her former glory.

When the prince set his mind to it, he found the signs had shown much earlier. A pointed glare when he had laughed a little too loudly, too long, with Princess Rapunzel of Corona. Her hand, tightening on his arm, when his eye contact with Princess Juliane of Hesse   – a dark-eyed, laughing beauty – lasted more than a few moments. The tugging on his jacket when he dallied an instant too long than was proper with another dance partner – particularly if she was blonde and blue-eyed.

That was only when they were in the company of others. Alone, Elsa was devoted to him, and she wasn’t afraid to show him how much.

“Elsa?” he asked aloud as their panting slowly subsided, and the colour in their cheeks receded. She propped herself up on her elbows and her hair tumbled over her face. “Yes, Hans?”

“Earlier tonight, you pulled me away – ”

Her eyes, usually serene blue, flared with the fury of a tempest. “Don’t think I didn’t see that she was flirting with you shamelessly. Holding your gaze, deliberately lowering her eyes when you looked at her, that little strumpet – ”

“Elsa, she’s your sister!” Anna, forced into attending at least one important ball, had been coerced into dancing with him for the sake of the neighbouring kingdoms. When the princess wasn’t looking away from him pointedly, she was glaring straight into his eyes, her fingernails digging into his flesh, willing her hatred to kill him on the spot.

She had retired immediately after, citing exhaustion.

“Back then, you chose her over me.”

He sighed and made to gather her in his arms, but she shrank back, stiff with anger. “Elsa. I love you and you alone. I never loved Anna; back then, I was only after the throne.”

“She was first,” she said, and started to sob. Elsa made no movement as he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair, murmuring senseless words of comfort into her ear.

 

* * *

 

They were as close as always; they dined together, they sat in their joint office drafting legal documents, they retired to bed together.

Hans knew it was an illusion, despite the weight of the crown on his head.

 

* * *

 

“Elsa?” He strode into the study, pulling his riding gloves on; one of his wedding gifts had been a fine gelding, and he was eager to put it through its paces. “I’m going riding; I’ll be back in the afternoon.”

She glanced up sharply from her book. “Riding? I’ll come with you,” said the queen hastily.

“You ride?”

“No, I…” She faltered. “I would like to learn.”

“I’ll teach you another time.” He couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice, and almost sighed as she flinched.

“I won’t be much trouble, I promise. Hans.” Elsa approached him timidly, her hand outstretched as though she would touch him. “Please? Don’t leave me here.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he tangled his fingers in hers, and her face lit up. “Alright,” said Hans with a tired smile, “let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

It was late. Despite the indifference of the castle staff, Hans hadn’t managed to sneak out to the town, and had to settle for pilfering a few bottles of ale from the kitchens. He drank them all in the portrait gallery (the one place he was sure Elsa wouldn’t find him).

“She’s crazy,” Hans slurred as Joan looked on sternly. “As nutty as her sister. They breed them funny in Arendelle. No wonder they had to be locked up.”

Finally, he was drunk enough to brave the way to his room. Slowly, leaning against the walls for support as he went, he found his bedroom. It took him several tries to find the doorknob, and then several more to close the door properly behind him.

Hans shed his jacket and boots – his cravat lost a while ago – and fumbled with his shirt buttons; he abandoned the attempt with a muttered curse, yanking it roughly over his head. It was too hot, and his head was starting to pound.

He lifted the bedcovers and slid in gingerly; even blind drunk, he knew not to wake his wife –

“Hans.”

The king started. “Elsa,” he said, shocked into sobriety, “you’re awake? I’m sorry I woke you – ”

“No, please don’t apologise.” She was hugging him fiercely, her face in his bare chest. “I was looking for you,” she mumbled. Her tears felt cold against his chest. “The staff said they hadn’t seen you, and I was so worried…”

“I was just having a drink.” Belatedly he noticed she was naked.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” he asked, bewildered.

“It must have been something I did wrong, to make you want to be alone.” Elsa glanced up at him, her blue eyes wild with guilt. “Please forgive me – I’ll make it up to you – ” Hans jumped and swore, jerking away as her hands pawed clumsily at the fasteners of his breeches.

“Elsa, stop.”

She froze. Hans could see fresh tears welling. Summoning what remained of his patience, he said gently: “Not now. I’m not in the mood.”

“Don’t you want me to? I’ll satisfy you, you don’t have to do anything. Just – lie back…” Elsa’s hands were shaking, even as she forced a lascivious smile, pushing him back onto the pillows, grinding her wet crotch against his thigh. He watched, transfixed with horror, as she bent lower –

“Don’t touch me!”

Elsa recoiled as though she had been slapped. The colour drained from her face. “Hans – ” Tears and mucus mixed on her face, and it was all he could do not to look disgusted.

“I’m tired,” said the young man curtly, “we’ll talk in the morning, alright? Go to sleep.” He rolled over and left her sitting there.

Hans fell asleep immediately. In his drunken stupor, he didn’t hear her stifled sobs.

* * *

 

The Elsa he woke up with the next morning wasn’t the same one that curled into him as though willing herself to be a part of him.

He blinked, rubbing at bleary eyes, at the slender figure that sat on the edge of the bed away from him. “Elsa?” mumbled Hans. “Come back to bed.”

She barely turned her head. Even half-asleep, he could see the coldness that was always a part of her, somehow – it had seeped into the way she looked at him. “Elsa?”

“Good morning, Hans,” she said neutrally. She was naked and seemingly oblivious to it. The iciness of her tone sent prickles of alarm down his spine.

“Is something wrong?” He pulled himself upright and tried to gather her into his arms. “I was drunk; I apologise if I hurt you last night – ”

“Is that all?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Her ice-blue eyes traveled from his bare legs, up the broad expanse of chest, his still-flushed face, and sleep-mussed hair. “You were only drinking last night?”

Hans frowned. “Of course.” Elsa was speaking strangely, and he was now wide-awake and alert.

“… I see.” She rose and walked to the door; her ice dress coalesced around her body as she moved, her hair twisting into a severe bun. “I have work to do. I’ll see you later.”

“Elsa – ” The door shut with a sharp click, cutting off the rest of his explanation.

 

* * *

 

She came to him later that night. He was sitting up, book in hand.

“You’re back,” said Hans, putting the book on the nightstand, “we need to talk – mm!” Elsa descended on him with a savage animal ferocity that cut him off, left him gasping. Elsa was the one to pin him to the bed; Elsa was the one to attack his body with tongue, teeth, and nails, lavishing attention on every part except for the straining in the crotch of his pants.

“Elsa,” he groaned, equal parts confused and aroused by the very literal hot-and-cold shift in her mood. She pulled away from laving his inner thigh, and his hips bucked up shamelessly into the empty space. Hans flushed.

“What is it?” she asked – no, _demanded_.

“This morning – ”

“Oh,” she said, and paused. Her hand strayed up his thigh and _squeezed_. “You didn’t want me last night. I thought you should know how that felt like.”

Hans cringed. “Elsa, I’m sorry. I was drunk – ”

She kissed him hard, their teeth clacking together. “I know,” she murmured against his kiss-bruised lips. “Let me show you,” the queen ran her fingernails down his chest as he hissed, “why that was a mistake,” she slipped her hands into his pants, “and you should never do that _again_.” She squeezed, and he cried out, the pain blurring into a perverse pleasure.

Triumph sparkled in her eyes. “You were cast out from your family. I saved you. We are married; you belong to me.” Elsa squeezed again. His eyes rolled back into his head.

“I’m yours, and you’re mine. I gave up everything for you.”

“I – ”

She pulled, and the stitching of his pants tore. He sprang free under her amused gaze. Dipping her head, Elsa ran her tongue over his penis. Her teeth pressed lightly, and he made a sound.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You,” he ground out, and was rewarded by the sensation of her hot mouth taking him. Hans thrust, feeling the hot wetness enveloping him –

Elsa jerked back, wiping her mouth on the ruin of his pants, her eyes cold and inscrutable once more. “Yes,” she cooed, “and I’ve decided you needed to be punished for yesterday.”

He could have growled in frustration, but thought the better of it – it was frustration that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. “I deserve to be punished,” he agreed, ignoring the pulsing need between his legs.

She smiled then. There was no trace of the timid, dependent woman he had grown accustomed to in that cruel expression, and it scared him. “I’m going back to finish some work,” said Elsa, clambering off the bed, “I’ll be back later.”

Elsa paused at the door. “Oh, and before I forget…” With a wave of her hand, icy cuffs much like the ones she had worn in the dungeon appeared on his hands. “In case you’re tempted to, ah, touch yourself.” She tossed a last glance at his fully erect penis – Hans could have sworn he spotted some longing as well – and then shut the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

He was roused from a light doze by the door flying open, and her warm weight on him. “… Elsa?” he asked blearily. Her kisses were salty with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said over and over, massaging the life back into his hands, pressing her lips to every inch of skin. Hans let her, too numb and boneless to move.

If he shut his eyes, he could pretend the vindictive Fury of last night never was, and Elsa was just as pliable and under his thumb as always.

 

* * *

 

Her first taste of the power she wielded was also the fatal first step.

Now, with all the time in the world to reflect, he regretted pushing her away. Most of all, he regretted using the three words that had scarred her so deeply.

 

* * *

 

“Hans."

"Yes, Elsa?"

"You weren't in my study this morning."

Terror seized him. He fell to one knee immediately. "Forgive me, my queen. I overslept – " He stopped talking when an icicle prickled at the skin of his throat.

" _Excuses_ ," she hissed. "How do I know you weren't talking to the maids – "

" – Your Majesty – "

" – or the Duke of Coburg's daughters – "

" – I would never –"

" – or my _sister_ – "

" – _Elsa_!"

Her eyes widened, and with a jerky gesture, the ice casing that had been creeping up his body dissipated. He fell on all fours, gasping for breath.

“Hans – I-I'm so sorry –” She went to him, her trembling hands dancing over his face and neck, not daring to actually touch him. "I was just afraid – ”

“No, Elsa," he panted, forcing a smile to his face. “I'm sorry. I made you worry; that won't happen again, I swear it.” He opened his arms to her. She flew into them with a sob, crushing her lips to his in a frenzied hunger.

 

* * *

 

"I couldn't bear the thought of losing you," she confessed as they lay in a tangle of bedsheets and clothing and each other. "I just... Hans, you're the only one I can trust now. You're the only one who loves me."

He stroked her fringe from her sweaty forehead. "I know. I love you, Elsa. I live only for you." He avoided looking at her body, where bones jutted at severe angles from skin, and her eyes were too large for her face.

"I love you. I love you so much. Hans – if I were to lose you – " Her fingernails dug into his skin, freezing fractals around them. She appeared not to notice.

"You won't lose me. I'm here. I'll always be here for you, Elsa."

 

* * *

 

He hadn’t had a peaceful night’s sleep in ages – it was either the light, jerky doze of a man in constant danger, or the dreamless slumber induced by sexual exhaustion.  
  


It was not because she was insatiable - far from that, given the slight hesitation that now coloured every move, and the way her body ceased to respond as quickly. Elsa's will had always been more than her body could hold, and her drive to keep Hans - in the only way she knew how - was killing her.

Killing them both.

 

* * *

 

"You've been distant of late."

His bloodshot eyes darted to her instantly, and he forced the fear from them. "What do you mean, Elsa?" he said, his voice deliberately even.

"Your eyes." She caressed his cheek, her own expression blank. "They don't look at me the same way."

"Elsa, I don't – "

"Don't lie!" she screamed, slapping him. He was thrown back by the force of her hand, tumbling to the carpet, but then she was there with him again, her touch tender once more. He couldn't help but flinch when an icy-cool finger traced the reddening flesh.

Her grip tightened. He fought back a flinch. "Hans, I'm sorry," she whispered, tears tracking down her cheeks, "I didn't mean to – I couldn't control it – I love you so much, I – "

"Shhh," he soothed, his hand shaky as he reached for her. "I forgive you. Hush, Elsa, don't cry. I love you."

He let her cling to him, tight enough to know it would bruise later, his gaze jittering around the room.

He had to do it soon, before it was too late.

 

* * *

 

“Elsa,” he said, doing his best to sound seductive.

“Yes?” She had her nightgown-clad back to him. Her braid was over her shoulder, and he knew she was unpicking it as was her nightly ritual – unless they were together, and then she would let him run his fingers through the thick waves.

Hans approached cautiously. It was imperative that she be exhausted, and sleep deeply enough for him to fetch what he needed. And so his fingers ghosted over her shoulders, taking her hair into his hands with a whispered, “let me”.

“Mmmm.” Elsa let her hands drop to her lap. He combed through her hair with his fingers, starting from her scalp.

“There.”

She turned her body around, and he was relieved to see the light of intelligence in her eyes, her lips curved in a familiar smile. “You’re very attentive tonight.”

He chuckled. “Maybe I’m after something.”

“Rogue.” But she was already pressing forward, kissing him without waiting for a reply. Her palms pressed at his chest, and he cupped her hips, letting his hands slide lower still… She hissed sharply. Elsa’s kisses grew frenzied, and she pushed closer, tugging at the waist of his pants with an urgency that alarmed him.

“Elsa – ”

“Shh.” Her eyes were half-lidded, dull. Hans gave way to her, lifting his hips so she could pull his pants out of the way – if he hadn’t, she would have simply ripped the fabric away. Elsa grunted her approval, using her knee to nudge his legs apart.

“Do you want me?” she asked, her eyes never leaving his crotch.

“I don’t understand how you could think otherwise.”

Smirking, Elsa reached down, and he shuddered. She lifted the hem of her nightgown to her waist to reveal her lack of undergarments. Elsa ground herself against him and he could feel her wetness. “ _This_ ,” she said, pressing empathetically so he sucked in a breath, “is mine alone.”

“Yours,” he agreed, hoping his voice didn’t catch.

Elsa grinned. “Good boy.” She continued swaying her hips, giggling each time she felt him respond to her teasing.

“Please,” said Hans. “Please, _please_.”

“Of course,” she answered, “after you prove to me that you’re mine.”

He didn’t hesitate. Hans crawled forward, grunting with discomfort; he caught her waist and gently pushed her downwards, lips kissing over her hips and towards the apex of her legs. Elsa moaned. Her legs immediately tightened around his neck. He suckled on her clit, her lower lips, tongue coaxing and stroking moans of pleasure from her.

Once he had brought her to a climax, she didn’t immediately release him. Her legs gripped harder; Hans drew a stuttery breath.

“I can’t breathe – ”

Abruptly the pressure vanished, and Elsa was sitting up, tugging at his shoulders. “Just a reminder,” she told him, eyes steely blue.

Hans didn’t need to ask further questions.

“I want you inside.”

He nodded.

 

* * *

 

As he jerked his hips into her, he could see the manic expression his mother had worn; it took all his self-control not to vomit, and a little more to remain hard.

 

* * *

 

He was exhausted. More importantly, so was she. He waited until Elsa lay sleeping, naked and sated, before he crept from her bed and went to a specific hallway.

Anna's favourite knight – or to be precise, suit of armour. Hans drew the sword from its scabbard, and returned to her bedroom.

Now. While she slept. He would never get a chance otherwise. He knew her powers could react unconsciously; he'd talked to Weselton's men before they were shipped off in disgrace with their master. A young woman, with no training, who'd spent her whole life hiding her powers, could still overpower two well-trained soldiers.

Dimly, Hans was aware that her death would be suspicious, that he wouldn’t get away with the crime. But his body moved automatically, the sword fitting in his hand like it was made for him, and _he would be rid of her_.

He raised his sword above his head without hesitation; he had raised a sword to her before, and he had no qualms about doing it again.

"Hans?"

He reacted well. Swinging the sword away from her, he let its momentum carry it to the carpet and under the bed where the carpet muffled its fall, changing the movement of his hands to a lazy yawn and stretch.

"… Yes, Elsa?"

"Come back to bed," she said sleepily, warm arms twining around his waist and tugging. "Where did you go?"

"I needed to relieve myself, dearest." Hans crawled closer.

"Of course." Elsa nuzzled his neck.

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry." He stroked her mussed curtain of platinum blonde soothingly.

"I had _that_ dream again."

"Again? You haven't had it in months." Icy fear, unrelated to the woman in his arms, tightened his chest.

"I know. Strange." She shifted her body closer. "I keep seeing you raising your sword to me," she said drowsily, already succumbing to sleep, "we've come a long way since then, haven't we?"

"Indeed," he said, willing his heartbeat steady.

 

* * *

 

If the direct approach didn't work, there were always subtler ways. He remembered dark, whispered tales from his childhood; of plants that could cause sickness, death even, of substances that had effects on the mind and body.

He tried the library first. Elsa approved of his newly studious attitude because it meant he wasn't out and talking with other women, and he could be with her as she worked.

She didn't even bother to look at the pages he read, or the gold-stamped titles on the spines of the books surrounding him.

 

* * *

 

Three days of browsing the castle library (which was prodigiously big for such a small kingdom) and all Hans had found was lists of medicinal herbs that had adverse effects when taken in excess.

As for poisons, he found a volume of plants that talked about "malignant" plants that were known to be harmful to humans.

"Tysbast..." he whispered, tracing the watercolour illustration with a gloved finger.

"Hans," she called, "come here for a moment, would you?"

Snapping the book shut with only the slightest hesitation, he walked to her desk obediently. "Yes, my queen?"

"Look at this," she said, tapping the roll of parchment with her pen, "you see this clause here? What do you think?"

He bent closer to examine the writing. "... surely they're joking?"

"I was told that was not the case." Elsa's eyes were hard and cold, much like the ice he'd seen her wield. "They are perfectly serious."

"We cannot accept their terms. What with the general downturn in productivity, Arendelle can scarcely afford to meet this level of production."

“It won't be easy to reject them, though; they can be rather problematic.” She was looking to him, her face soft and open like a puppy seeing its master. He tried not to notice the slavish devotion in her eyes. “What do you think?”

Hans took the roll from her and skimmed the entire document. "We won't need to reject them. What we should do is offer them counter-terms that look appealing, but benefit us."

"Like?"

He took the proffered pen and scrap paper from her hand, scratching out a few lines. "Well, for one, we have ice." Hans smiled briefly at her, hiding the revulsion he felt at the enraptured awe in her eyes. "Even if you didn't lend a hand, the ice harvesters are more than capable of producing enough ice to supply the southern regions."

"True," said Elsa, her expression darkening a little. "Although I seriously question the veracity of my Royal Ice Master's reports."

"He has no reason to falsify them."

"He could easily be operating his own black market. Selling ice through illegal channels." A muscle pulsed in Elsa's cheek. "With my sister's money to back him, I wouldn't put it past him to be profiting in that way."

"Kristoff and Anna are entirely trustworthy," said Hans firmly, a laugh bubbling deep inside his chest at the irony of the entire situation. “Also, you don’t actually pay Anna an allowance.”

“Worse, then,” said Elsa dismissively. “She’s using Kristoff’s money. And how would you know that they can be trusted?” Her voice had gone dangerously soft, and he felt a chill prickle the back of his neck – figuratively and literally. Frost crept over the burnished wood of her desk; Hans jerked his hand away before it could freeze his hand. “How do you know that she has no money? Has she complained to you?”

"Elsa, I – "

"I remember you telling me they feared me, they were untrustworthy. Even my own sister. But I suppose that's part of her deception? Years of pretending to care about me, just to fill a hole in her selfish loneliness?" There was a hysterical wobble in the last sentence that set his pulse pounding.

He reached out and took her hands in his automatically; he was used to the bone-chilling cold that set in, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand.

"Shh, Elsa," he instructed her, and she subsided like a reprimanded child. "You're tired. You don't know what you're saying. You've been working the whole day without taking a break; I'm not surprised you're so stressed out over something this small."

"You're right," replied Elsa meekly, the fear in her eyes dimming to a bland gaze. "You know me best, Hans."

"Go rest." He propelled her gently but decisively towards the door.

She closed her eyes. "Yes."

Hans led her to their bedroom, pulling aside the covers and preparing it for her; she changed into her nightgown and lay down without a word, docile as a child.

"Sleep." He bent to kiss her forehead; she caught his face in her hands, drawing him down for a passionate kiss. Hans broke away after a few moments. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

"Of course," she murmured and closed her eyes.

He didn't immediately leave, as he would have done of late. Hans paused by her side, gazing dispassionately at her as he dared not do while she was awake.

Elsa was as beautiful as the day he had first seen her – a nervous young woman crowned as queen – and honestly, he hadn't much time to appreciate her since then, at the ball. Then she had revealed her ice powers and things got interesting.

He switched targets from Anna to Elsa in that moment, seeing what she could do, but then she ran off and it was up to him to go find her himself (not trusting that awkward young klutz to succeed – if she were suffer a misadventure, it was quite a bit less trouble for him to rid himself of her).

Her beauty was ethereal; like ice crystals. Catching the light, shining brightly and radiantly. Always dazzling in her refined demeanour. Even thin as she was, now, she only grew more delicate.

Delicate, and so very fragile.

Hans reached for a pale hand; she didn't stir. Her wrist was thin, the veins ice-blue and pulsing under his fingertips.

He pressed a kiss to her palm, laid her hand back on the bedclothes, and left for the library to resume his research.

 

* * *

 

He was out in the gardens, searching for the bright purple flowers he wanted. Even though the book had said tysbast was rare, it didn't hurt to try.

"I know what you're trying to do."

He knew that voice. Hans turned around slowly, smirking. "Do you now, Anna?"

The open gates didn't appear to have suited her; her coppery-auburn hair (minus the white streak) was lank, the layers of her dress hung on her frame, and her eyes had the far-seeing quality he usually noticed in old soldiers. She looked bone-tired.

"You're trying to kill Elsa," she said flatly, "again." The words lacked any of the fire that had characterized her interactions with him.

"Perceptive of you." His gaze darted between her, and the bare branches of the shrubs. "You seem disturbingly calm about this, however."

She forced a laugh. "What am I supposed to do? I waited outside her door for thirteen years. I went to the North Mountain to fetch her. I took a sword for her – your sword, as I’m sure you recall." He inclined his head in response. "And she shuts me out again. Permanently. Because of _you_."

He shrugged. "You're still her sister."

There was that tiny, telltale flicker in her eyes that told Hans the word was now a sore point with her. “Only in name. And _you_ are also the only person she trusts. She all but told me to leave her alone; not because she's scared of hurting me, but because she doesn't trust me."

She blinked rapidly, scrubbing at her eyes. "Do you think she would believe me if I told her you were trying to kill her?" Anna looked far younger than her age in that moment.

“This isn’t personal,” said Hans smoothly. “I’m sure you’re aware of that – ”

“ – I don’t fucking care anymore, Hans!” snapped Anna. He jerked back, startled by the outburst, and the profanity. The Anna he knew was innocent to the point of being naïve, loved everything and anything with a fierce passion, and wore her heart on her sleeve – in spite of everything he had done to her.

Maybe he didn’t know Anna anymore.

She looked away. Drawing a deep breath, she continued in more even tones: "I don't care anymore, what you do, and to Elsa. I can’t."

There was an odd look in Hans' eyes as he glanced at her hunched shoulders, the hurt and exhaustion in her face. "For what it's worth, Anna," he said, "I am truly sorry for that day in the library."

The ghost of a smile flitted over her face. "But not for what you did after, and to my sister.”

"I married her.”

“You did, and you’ll be the death of her.”

Hans eyed her carefully. "You don't care about what happens to her at all," he pronounced.

"Were you not paying attention to what I said earlier?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe I'm just tired, you know? I've spent twenty years loving Elsa, thirteen of them through a locked door, and it's just occurred to me that maybe she wasn't even there in the first place." Anna spun on her heel, pulling her cloak around her. "I need to go. Enjoy your murderous work."

He left the gardens not long after Anna did. Hans told himself it was because it was too late in the year to find the tysbast.

 

* * *

 

While he waited for the season to change, he found himself slowly settling into the routine he had started with Elsa. Her lust for him tapered off, and there were days she wouldn’t even touch him at all, and those were the days he could almost see her as she had been before their marriage.

He was surprised when she started eating heartily again. Before, it was a struggle getting her to finish her plate even on her good days; now, she was cleaning it, and picking food off his when she thought he wasn’t looking.

Elsa was even playful. She laughed louder and more frequently, and she wasn’t above using her ice to play pranks on him.

When he looked at her sometimes when she was laughing, her face aglow with happiness, he felt a strange prickling at his heart, as though he loved her.

 

* * *

 

His mother died suddenly, but not quietly. She was screaming towards the end, and he remembered the servants hurrying him out of the room with her curses following him.

No one talked to him, or even came near him at her funeral; it was though he had died too.

He certainly remembered having felt nothing.

 

* * *

 

It was practically a miracle he had found some of the berries this early in the summer, but he had a goodly handful wrapped up in a handkerchief and sitting on the table in the library.

The question now wasn't getting her to swallow them, or coming up with a story on how she had accidentally eaten the berries; it was pretending to be appropriately worried by her sudden illness and grief-stricken by her death.

 

* * *

 

"For me?"

He smiled. "I know how much you love lingonberries," he said, placing the dish on the table. "I had the servants buy some early ones, and make them into jam."

"You shouldn't have.” In that moment, her eyes alight, her hands clasped together in a very Anna gesture, he wondered why he was doing this. He shook off the moment of weakness.

"I insist." Hans pushed the dish closer. "For you, my love."

"But can't it wait until dinner?" asked Elsa with a laugh. "It doesn't make sense to eat them like this."

"At least try some," he said.

Elsa nodded her acquiescence. She reached out and spooned a portion of the jam. Her lips parted.

"Mmmm," she said, running her tongue over her lips. "Delicious. Here, try some..."

"Oh, no." Hans laughed nervously and took a step back. "I don't like sweet things."

“But it’s delicious – ” She broke off, all colour draining from her face.

“Elsa? Elsa, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t – it hurts.” Elsa stumbled and pitched forward, just as he reached to catch her. Her eyes were already glazed over, her limbs thrashing, foam dribbling from her mouth.

“Somebody help! Call the physician!” roared Hans, forcing his fingers between her teeth to prevent her from biting off her own tongue, wincing as she drew blood in the throes of a seizure.

As he lifted her to her bed, he made a mental note to never use tysbast as a suicide option.

 

* * *

 

He waited, torn between dread and elation, outside her chambers until the doctor emerged.

“Doctor, is she – ?”

The portly man looked up, exhaustion etched into every line of his wrinkled face. “She lives, thank the gods.”

“Oh.” Hans slumped against the wall. The doctor took it as relief, and crossed the room to clasp his shoulder.

“But, Your Majesty…”

“Tell me.”

“She lost the baby.”

“She – what?”

“I am truly sorry, my king.”

“I was not aware – oh.” Hans slumped back against the wall. Her cheerfulness, her change in appetite, her sudden shyness at stripping in front of him. She was waiting for the right moment to tell him, and he –

No. He didn’t want children. He wanted the throne only, and the power it brought.

Forcing a stony mask to his face, he stood upright. “Is she alright now?”

“It was a close call,” sighed the doctor, removing his spectacles and wiping them on his shirttails. “The queen ran a high fever dangerously long. If she wakes, all will be well, but I cannot say for sure whether that will be anytime soon.”

“I see.” Hans rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thank you. You will be generously rewarded for your services here.”

 

* * *

 

When she finally opened her eyes, Hans was fortunate enough to be at her bedside. He had spent most of the past week in her study – his in all but name now – sifting through the paperwork, more of a clerk than a king.

“Elsa,” he said, rising from his chair and gathering her hands in his. “Elsa, are you all right? I was so worried, my love.”

She stared past him with blank eyes. Elsa blinked once. “Our baby,” she said dully. Her hands flew to her belly, rubbing circles.

“My love, I’m sorry.”

She made a low animal-like cry, piercing and shrill, and he hugged her fiercely; partly to comfort her, partly to muffle her sobs. Elsa’s fingers curved like talons, digging into his shoulders. Hans seemed not to notice.

“Our baby, our baby,” she wailed over and over again.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

* * *

 

Physically, she made a full recovery and was out of bed after barely a week; mentally, Hans could see the strain of keeping her emotions under control. Her powers were nothing compared to this – they were physical manifestations of the fear and apprehension she felt. They were linked to her emotions, and those were surging at the boundaries of her sanity like the ocean against the rocks, steadily eroding the stone with every wave.

Her rages and fits grew in intensity and frequency, and Hans began to look forward to increasingly-rare ‘good’ days when Elsa could truly be called Elsa, and he could pretend everything was alright. He wore his crown, his queen stood proudly by his side, and there had been no child but a changeling, magicked into existence and just as easily gone by his mother’s eldritch powers.

It was a good dream while it lasted.

 

* * *

 

Winter was always harsh in Arendelle, but only for Hans was the cold especially bitter. Despite the heavy curtains and the piles of blankets, he was still cold. He lay in her bed, drawing shallow gasps, as he awaited her return.

When she wasn’t seeing to government herself, she was at Anna’s door, hurling wild accusations. Elsa didn’t like to be interrupted; he had a half-healed scar on his right hand when he had tried.

"Are you feeling better?" crooned a voice, and he stiffened.

"El-Elsa," he said. She smiled, drawing the back of her hand down his face. Before, it would have sent stirrings of arousal to his groin; now, he only felt revulsion, and the spike of fear that followed after.

"I've missed you," she sighed, " _so_ much. I love you."

"And I you."

"They were watching me all day today." A girlish giggle. "They were all smiles and politeness; _Your Majesty_ and _my Queen_. Except Anna. I'll always be Elsa to her – and you." She leaned in, confiding in his ear: "But between you and I, we both know they don't mean anything they say. It's all lies. _Dull affections,_ as you say." She pronounced it with relish, like a child mastering a difficult word.

"As I say indeed, my love," he said, forcing a smile.

She pouted. "What's wrong, Hans? Is something bothering you?" Elsa's face darkened. "Did they say something to you? I can have a word with them – "

"No! They said nothing!" He moved forward, catching her hands in his. "I'm sorry, Elsa, I'm just tired."

"Tired?" Her expression turned lascivious. "From our activities last night, I presume."

"Yes, my love. You are insatiable, and I adore it. I adore you."

"And I adore _you_ ," purred Elsa. Her fingers trailed down the front of his shirt, leaving tracks of frost, and he struggled not to flinch. "My Hans."

He wondered how long he could go on like this.

* * *

 

After his mother died, he spent a lot of time in the stables with Sitron, to the point a few of the crueler brothers called him a stable boy and beat him for sport.

He quickly learnt to listen for their footsteps and hide in the straw, keeping perfectly still, his heart hammering in his ears as they shouted that his mother was a whore, he was bastard-born, and they would kill him if he didn’t come out.

 

* * *

 

"I have to leave," he said urgently, his eyes continually darting left and right. "You have to help me, Anna."

She ran her gaze over him with the air of a butcher sizing a cow for slaughter; he had lost weight. His cheeks were sunken slightly, his greying hair limp and matted-looking, and his colour ashen; he looked as bad as she was convinced she herself did, despite Kristoff’s assurances to the contrary. His eyes were the most disturbing – she had difficulty meeting them.

They were the eyes of a wolf that had seen a tiger.

Slowly, she shook her head, and it was like a death knell to him. "I'm sorry," she said distantly, deaf to the wail of anguish that tore itself from his throat.

He fell to his knees, hands grabbing at her skirts. "No, please, you can't – you have to help me – "

"Help you?" She knelt, seizing his bony chin, looking into his wild eyes, her lip twisting with disdain. "Did you help me when I was freezing to death?" asked Anna. "No. You put the fire out. You locked the door. You left me to die." She let go contemptuously and stood upright. "And now I can do the same."

He started to sob, the shrill angry gasps of complete despair.

"You turned her against us all. You've gotten what you wanted; the crown is yours in all but name and you've got Elsa to boot. All of her, whatever that’s left, I don’t know. She’s yours to keep. I hope you're happy now."

"Anna – "

"Oh, Hans," said Anna, her face grim, "if only my sister didn't love you."

 

* * *

 

He was desperate enough to try the ice harvester.

“Kristoff,” he began, “please, hear me out – ”

“I’m not interested in anything you’ve got to say.” His back resolutely turned on Hans, Kristoff continued to pack his belongings into his sled.

“I need your help.”

“And what are you expecting me to do?”

“I have to leave, please, I can’t stay here any longer.” He clutched at the man’s clothes. “You’re leaving aren’t you? Take me along.”

The ice harvester laughed. “What, am I supposed to risk my life saving you? You, who pretended to be in love with my wife, who tried to kill her sister? I might be a ‘poor, ignorant peasant’, but even I can see through you.”

“She won’t hurt you, her brother-in-law, I’m sure – ”

“Right now, I sincerely doubt that.” Finally, he set down the bedrolls and turned to face Hans fully; his eyes were heavy with grief. “Elsa’s… _changed_. She isn’t the woman I knew immediately after the Thaw, that Anna told me about, before – _you_.” He looked away, and stooped to haul a crate. “I don’t know who she is anymore, and neither does Anna.”

“ _I’m begging you_.”

He set down the crate, and marched over to Hans; seizing the front of his jacket and cravat in one huge fist, he slammed the king bodily against the castle wall. “Listen, Hans,” he growled, “the only reason I’m actually listening to you now is because I still have that spark of human decency that you must have thrown away a long time ago. _You_ did this to Elsa. _You_ isolated her from everyone else, _you_ told her horrible lies about everything and everyone, and the person she is now is yours to own. _You_ don’t deserve to run away from your own actions.”

Hans gasped for breath, his hands gripping Kristoff’s wrist.

“You are truly the most despicable human being – if you can still be called that – that I have had the misfortune of knowing.” He let go, and the king fell to the ground, his knees shaking too hard to hold his weight.

“Kristoff – ”

“Kristoff?” Anna emerged from the castle doors, wrapped up in her winter clothes.

“Anna.” He backed away from the crumpled, sobbing heap, moving to the sled. “Everything’s ready to go.”

“Okay.” She paused, looked back up at the castle. “... I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“Hey. It’s alright.” The ice harvester wrapped both arms around her waist, kissing the top of her head. “I’m here for you, Fiesty Pants. Always.”

Anna laughed weakly. “I’m never going to live that nickname down, am I?”

“Never.”

She climbed into the sled, careful not to put her feet up. “Well, I’m ready. I was born ready.”

He chuckled. “I know. Oh, wait, one last thing – ” Kristoff removed the medallion with Arendelle’s crocus from Sven’s neck, tossing it away. It landed with a thud in the snow at Hans’ feet. “You,” he said, addressing the king, “tell Queen Elsa I, Kristoff Bjorgman, officially resign my title as Royal Ice Master and Deliverer and all of the stuff that came with it.”

“And me. I resign as Princess – can you even do that?” Her voice wobbled with unshed tears, belying the humour of her words and the small brave smile she was forcing.

“I don’t think so,” he said gently. “But you can make it a thing.” His large mittened hand cupped her chin. “Hey. Everything’s going to be fine now, Anna, I promise.”

“I know. It’s just – ” Anna glanced back at the castle and squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners. “We went through all that together, and I never gave up on her, never; but now – ”

“We have others to think about,” murmured Kristoff. She nodded slowly. He kissed her forehead, and turned back to the front, urging Sven on with a quiet ‘hnnyaa’.

Hans struggled to his feet, watching his last hope leave for the mountains of Arendelle. “Wait,” he said weakly, staggering forward, and then crumpling to the ground again. “Wait, please.”

 

* * *

 

“They’re finally gone,” said Elsa with more than a touch of relief as Hans entered the room.

“You – you were watching?”

“Yes, of course.” She sidled beside him, her arms snaking around his waist, resting her cheek on the lapel of his jacket. “I had to make sure they left with my own eyes. I can’t trust anyone to report to me.”

“O-of course.” His heart was in his throat; he wondered if she had seen his attempt at escape.

“I appreciate your efforts to make them stay, though, my love,” said Elsa suddenly, taking his hand and drawing him over to the fireplace.

“… Wait, what?”

“They are still my sister and - almost - brother-in-law, in spite of what they’ve done.” She reclined on the chaise lounge. “Blood is thicker than water. But I’m better off without their lies, their unspoken accusations.”

“My love, I – ”

“Yes?”

He swallowed hard. “I – It’s nothing. You look beautiful. I’m the luckiest man alive to have you to myself.”

Elsa wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him down to her, kissing him hungrily.

 

* * *

 

It seemed as though Princess Anna had taken all cheerfulness with her; only the most loyal of the servants stayed in Queen Elsa’s service, making the castle darker and gloomier than it had been after the previous king and queen’s deaths.

The few that stayed made it a point to blatantly ignore him, making Hans the invisible king in a castle of ghosts.

 

* * *

 

A high-pitched keening reached his ears, and he dropped his pen, afraid of what it meant.

Gerda burst through the door.

“Your Majesty –  ”

He held out a hand to forestall her, his feet already moving. “I know. I can hear her. Where is she?”

“Near the gallery, with the portrait of the late King and Queen.”

Hans scowled. “Another place. Wonderful.” He jogged through the empty halls, tracing a familiar path.

“Elsa?”

She huddled in the corner, hugging herself, a strangled wailing noise ripping itself from her throat as she rocked back and forth. He fell to his knees in front of her, making shushing noises.

“Elsa, it’s me, Hans, I’m here. Shhh my love, it’s alright.”

Elsa appeared not to hear him, her eyes wide and fixed on some unseen point. Her face was pale, paler than was normal. He sighed irritably. “It’s okay, Elsa. I got you,” said the king in a tired voice.

The rote phrase snapped the queen out of her trance, and she looked up. “Hans?” she whispered.

He forced the gentle smile back to his face. “It’s me, my queen.”

“Don’t leave me,” she rasped, her throat raw from screaming. Her fingers, so thin and white they resembled claws, grabbed at his clothes.

“Never,” he said, gathering her into his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.” Ignoring the ice that spread across his clothes, he stood up, adjusting her. Elsa smiled weakly, and then her eyes fluttered shut, her head falling forward to nestle in the crook of his neck. She was feather-light, and he could see her collarbones jutting out from bleached skin more than was healthy.

“When was the last time she ate?” He directed the question to Gerda, who had been hovering at his elbow the entire time.

“Your Majesty, I –  ”

He could feel a migraine coming on. “When. Was. The. Last. Time. She ate?”

“She took a little bread yesterday, sire –  ”

“Not good enough.” Hans’ scowl became more pronounced, and he began the walk to his bedroom. “Force it down her throat if you need to.”

“Your Majesty, she…” Gerda gulped, and continued, “Queen Elsa won’t let anyone else but you touch her.”

“I have other things to do than play nursemaid to a madwoman,” he growled, and the servant flinched. Hans took a deep breath, and tried again. “Fine. I will come by at mealtimes and _make_ her eat.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“She is not to come here again, am I clear? The same as with the former King and Queen’s rooms, the former Princess Anna’s room, and the throne room.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I think it’s best if we lock her in her room.” He glanced down at the sleeping woman in his arms. “For her own safety, of course.”

“... yes, Your Majesty.”

 

* * *

 

After that last fit, Elsa didn’t wake for three days. On the third day, Hans was sitting at his desk, signing proclamations, when there came a knock at the door.

"Your Majesty, the queen is awake.”

He had learned to fear that news. But Hans plastered a quick smile to his face. "I'll be right there."

* * *

 

She was sitting up, aided by Gerda, when Hans arrived; the queen greeted her husband with a shy smile. He sat on the bed, taking her hand. “Elsa. How are you feeling?”

"Tired." Her eyes had that familiar spark of intelligence, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “But much better. What happened?”

“You… don’t remember?”

“A bit… I was walking to the throne room, and then I saw…” Her voice trailed off, and she began to shake.

“Elsa, yes? What did you see?” asked Hans urgently.

She didn’t reply, her eyes fixated on some faraway point. “Papa,” she whimpered.

“Leave us,” snapped Hans to the servant, moving forward and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. The woman curtsied, and left, shutting the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

Anna sat by the fire, her feet propped up, supposedly stitching rosemaling on a little wrap, but mostly pricking herself with a needle. There was a knock on the door, and she frowned; Kristoff wasn’t due back from the ice lakes so early in the day, and they didn’t get visitors in this isolated part of the forest.

“Coming,” she called, easing herself from her chair, waddling under the burden of her swollen belly. She opened the door.

Hans. It had been a year since she had last seen him and yet, he had aged more than she thought possible; his auburn hair was heavily streaked with white ( _troll-kissed_ , she thought) and his once-handsome face was lined and greyish.

“Anna,” he said, forcing a tired smile. “May I come in?”

“You may not,” she snapped, folding her arms across her chest with some difficulty. “What do you want here?”

“Please, it’s Elsa…”

"Elsa?” The years of knocking at her sister’s door were hard to break, and the former princess’ anger melted away, replaced by worry. “What’s wrong? What happened to Elsa?” Anna's eyes narrowed abruptly, and she added, "What did you do to her now?"

“She’s not well… I don’t know how to explain it. She has these fits, and she doesn’t remember things, and they’re getting worse.” He seemed to lose his train of thought for a moment. “She’s had these for years, before you left.”

“And you never told anyone?” asked Anna incredulously.

“I thought – ”

“Clearly, you don’t,” she hissed. Anna’s lips were set in a tight line.

“Anna, please.”

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear anything from you.” She waddled back into the house, hastily throwing things together, wrapping furs and clothing around herself. “I’m going back for Elsa alone.”

“I know.”

She flashed around, her braids whirling; her hand connected with his face with a loud crack that snapped him to the side. A trickle of blood escaped the corner of his mouth, next to his rapidly swelling cheek. “Bastard.”

Hans didn’t say anything. He waited until she had scribbled a note and left it on the table, and then he helped her dampen the fire in the hearth and bolt the door.

Two horses snorted and pawed the snow outside. One was her own horse, Remlar, and Anna smiled as she stroked her nose. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, rubbing the horse’s neck.

“Uh,” said Hans hesitantly, nodding at her swollen belly, “do you need help…?”

“Don’t be a fool,” she snapped. “I’m harnessing Remlar to Kristoff’s sled.” Anna caught herself, and in a calmer tone, added, “It’s fine. I won’t let myself get angry with you. Not for this one’s sake.” She caressed her belly.

He dared not comment on her pregnancy, nor offer his good wishes, for fear she would twist his words with her anger. The journey back to the castle was completely silent.

 

* * *

 

Gerda was pacing in the snow outside when they returned, and flew to them. “Your Majesty, it’s the Queen – Princess Anna? ”

“Hi,” said Anna sheepishly, and was immediately engulfed in a massive hug from the weeping servant. “I’ve missed you too, Gerda.”

“What’s wrong with Elsa now?” demanded Hans impatiently.

The servant pulled away, wiping tears from her eyes. “She’s locked herself in her room, and she hasn’t come out. We can’t open the door, she’s frozen it shut.” Gerda stared at Hans. “… She’s asking for the late king, Your Majesty. Her father.”

Hans and Anna exchanged looks – hers coldly accusing, his defiant – and they rushed into the castle, up the stairs, and towards the familiar room.

“Elsa?” called Anna, banging her fists on the door. “It’s me, Anna.”

The sobbing stopped. “Anna?”

“Elsa!” Hans joined in, his fist making heavy thumps on the wood. “It’s Hans!”

“Hans,” said the voice from inside distantly. The sobbing began again, and both Hans and Anna’s faces were panicked.

“It’s me, Elsa. Please open the door,” said the king, doing his best to keep his voice calm.

Anna made a noise of frustration. She turned and ran – or rather, waddled quickly – down the corridor. “Where are you going?” shouted Hans.

“Give me a moment, this won’t take long…” She returned, puffing slightly, a large battleaxe in her hands. “Stand aside.”

He didn’t need telling twice; she was a heavily pregnant woman, eyes shining with a madness he’d seen in Elsa ( _it_ definitely _ran in the family_ , he thought), hefting a weapon with a blade the size of his torso. Hans knew better than to intervene.

Anna hauled the weapon up and brought it down once, twice; the faded wood splintered and cracked under the blade, and it caught on the second chop. Grunting, she tugged it out, one foot planted on the door, and swung again. “I’ve always wanted to do this when I was a kid,” she quipped without humour.

“Anna,” said Hans, fearing for the well-being of the baby in her belly, and its sobbing mother, “let me take that, mind the baby – ”

“You,” she snapped back, her voice teetering on dissolving completely into sobs, some strands of hair coming loose to plaster themselves to her face. “Don’t stop me. You did _this_ to Elsa, and I – ” she grunted as the axe bit into the door, “– am going to see my sister.”

He bit his tongue. Nothing good would come of further antagonizing a distraught pregnant woman, not for her baby, herself, or for him. In spite of the complicated history he shared with Anna, he was still able to recognize the unborn baby as an innocent, that didn’t deserve to be dragged into their machinations.

One unborn life was one too many.

Anna finally broke through the door and made a sound of triumph. Hans intervened, kicking down the remains fully. They both stepped back, wincing, as icy wind tore at their faces. Ice streaked past Hans’ cheek, leaving a bloody line as it went.

Elsa sat crouched in the corner of the room, surrounded by jagged icicles and crystalline structures. They were hauntingly beautiful, but neither Hans nor Anna were in any mood to appreciate them.

“Elsa!” Half-running, half-stumbling, Anna made her way to her sister, falling to her knees just before the queen, shaking hands reaching out to cup her cheeks. Hans followed closely. The blonde, her hair in disarray, seemed to stare past them, her eyes dulled and empty. “Elsa?” Anna hissed as her skin brushed ice, the remnants of tears on her cheeks. “Elsa, are you alright?”

“Elsa,” said Hans, and moved to touch her, but was stilled by a warning look from Anna. _Let me have this_ , her eyes seemed to say. _You’ve taken three years from us when we swore thirteen was too many; let us have this._

Anna turned her attention back to her sister. “Hush,” she said, flinging her arms around Elsa’s neck, gathering her to her chest, over the swell of her belly. “Elsa, it’s alright. I’m here.” Elsa let out a muffled sob, clutching Anna’s arms. The redhead made soft shushing noises, rocking her sister like a child, her fingers smoothing through the wild blonde locks, melting away the frost that tangled them.

Hans cast his eyes around the room. The ice structures were starting to melt, but the temperature remained the same, and his limbs were close to freezing off. Anna seemed quite oblivious to the cold. “Mama,” said Elsa suddenly, her voice small and vulnerable. “Mama, I couldn’t control it – ”

Anna stiffened, as did Hans, as a chill which had nothing to do with the room pervaded them. “Elsa?” said her sister carefully, drawing back to meet her eyes. “It’s me, Anna.”

“Papa,” said Elsa, turning away, reaching out a hand for Hans. “Papa, please don’t punish me, I’m sorry.” Anna and Hans exchanged horrified looks over Elsa’s head, and then the king-consort took her hand in both of his. “Elsa,” he said slowly and carefully, staring deep into her eyes, “I’m not your father. I’m Hans, your husband.”

Fear stole into her gaze, and her shoulders began to shake. “No,” she whispered, and Anna gave a choked sob beside her, “no, Papa said he was coming back, he said I’d be fine – ” Elsa turned those frightened blue eyes on Anna.

“Mama, you’re back, aren’t you? You came back.”

Anna’s white-knuckled hands were clamped to her mouth, and red, red blood trickled slowly through her fingers where her teeth bit down, struggling not to make any sound.

Hans gathered Elsa into his arms, ignoring the soft choking noises coming from Anna, and how the woman in his arms barely filled his embrace. “Elsa,” he said softly, and felt her tentatively return the hug.

He almost felt a twinge of remorse for his actions. Almost.

 

* * *

 

Anna waited until Elsa was sound asleep, and she and Hans were safely out of earshot, before turning on him with a straight punch to his jaw. He fell back against the wall, not meeting her eyes, a thin trickle of blood marking where it connected.

She launched herself after him. “What have you done to her, you bastard!” she shrieked, her fists battering his chest. Hans didn’t fight back. “What have you – my God, Elsa – you broke her, you _broke_ her – ” Her voice trailed off into incoherent words, and gradually sobbing. Anna landed a few more halfhearted punches, her crying hysterical and uncontrolled, until she pressed her forehead to Hans’ chest, exhausted.

Painfully Hans’ arms encircled her, and he stroked her hair. When Elsa had raged at him countless times before, he had learned to fight instinct and comfort her. He reasoned it should work for her sister.

When her hysterical sobbing had calmed down somewhat, Anna gave a hoarse shriek of anger, placing both hands on his chest and pushing. “This is all your fault,” she growled, chest heaving. “You did this to her.”

Hans, now thoroughly fed up with Anna and her anger (righteously deserved or not), snarled back, “That may be so, but this is as much your fault as it is mine, Anna.”

All colour drained from her face, and she staggered back a step. “What?”

“You failed to save her.” He took a step forward. “You knew what I was doing to her.” Another step. “You abandoned Elsa, knowing full well you were all she had left, just so you could pursue your own happiness with the ice harvester.” Hans was right in front of her, his fingers gripping her chin so he could force her to look into his eyes.

“I…” Anna’s eyes swirled with a myriad of emotions; pain, guilt, regret, anger, heartbreak.

“If only you had loved her, Anna.”

“Don’t… don’t you dare turn this on me.” Anger surged forward, and she slapped him hard.

He hissed, seizing both her wrists and shaking her hard. “Do not. Touch. Me. Again.”

“And why not?” she challenged, fighting hard to free herself.

“I am the King now. You gave up your title, you’re nothing more than a lowly peasant – ”

“Peasant or no, Elsa is still my sister.” Anna’s words were laced with venom, and she yanked her hands free with an effort, moving forward to –

“Aaaah!”

She doubled up, clutching her midsection. Hans paled. “Anna?”

“No… no…” Ugly crimson stains formed on her clothing, staining her skirts. “The baby – Kristoff – Hans, please –”

Hans looked terrified. “I… I…” The king stumbled backwards, falling against the wall for support. “Gerda!” he bellowed.

“Your Majesty – Princess Anna!” The old servant, flanked by a few younger maids, attended to Anna at once, their faces as strained and bloodless as the young woman.

He watched as they led her away, his heart feeling as though it was pounding out of his chest.

 

* * *

 

Kristoff was at the castle shortly after nightfall, demanding to be let in. Hans stayed locked in his study, letting the doctor break the news to the ice harvester.

The burly man stumbled into Anna’s bedroom where she waited for him; her head bowed, she looked tiny. Broken. He couldn’t believe it was his wife in the bed, because she looked so small and fragile, more than he’d ever seen her before, even on the day they left Arendelle.

“Anna,” he whispered, reaching for her small, cold hands.

She turned lifeless eyes on him. “He was a boy.” Her voice broke. “He was our son, Kristoff, he was so _beautiful_ – ”

“Shh, shh. I got you, Anna.”

“He had blonde hair like yours,” she sobbed into his chest. “He was perfect, but he’s – ”

“Shh, shh,” he said, but he was crying as well, massive shoulders shaking with sobs.

 

* * *

 

Kristoff only spoke to Hans once after returning to the castle.

Hans had just left his study when strong hands slammed him into the wall.

“Kristoff,” he said, eyes glittering.

The ice harvester’s eyes were bloodshot, with large purple-black bags. “You did this,” he rasped.

“Did what?”

“Everything. You took my son from me. Anna – ” His voice caught. Kristoff growled, shaking his head, and tightened his grip on Hans. “You’ve broken her, broken them both.”

“I regret that,” admitted Hans. “She was upset, rightfully so, and I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“You – ” Abruptly the stranglehold vanished, and the smaller man fell to the floor, gasping. Kristoff fell to his knees, head bowed.

Hans left him there, howling like a wounded animal.

 

* * *

 

Anna moved back into the castle with Kristoff; not as Elsa’s keepers, but Hans’ captors.

“You broke her, Hans,” growled Anna, her face swollen from crying, “she’s your responsibility now.”

She forced him to sign the declaration of his abdication as king-consort; with his queen seriously ill, and knowing the people won’t accept a foreign prince as their king, he had decided to retire from public life to devote himself to her care. Hans named Anna, as reinstated heir and last remaining full-blooded member of the royal family, his successor.

It happened very quietly; there was practically no one in attendance in the short ceremony where he took off his coronet and handed it to Anna, who took it like she was receiving a rotting carcass from a pet.

Anna never said anything, and her husband was a man of few words, but all the servants knew that the new queen had lost her firstborn and her sister in one fell swoop because of the former king-consort, and they hated him for it.

He spent his days quietly reading and writing – even if he wasn’t allowed to handle matters of state anymore – and visited Elsa only with Anna’s supervision.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t even have memories to fall back on, because Elsa and her madness tainted everything.

It was indistinguishable from his mother’s madness at times.

 

* * *

 

His head felt oddly light without his crown. Anna had retired early, Kristoff with her, and the guards had disappeared to places unknown. Hans was used to roaming the corridors on his own, and his feet took him to a familiar place. The temporary door they had installed to replace the hated white snowflake-decorated door wasn’t locked. Hans didn’t bother knocking.

It was unbearably cold. There was a tiny huddled lump in the middle of the bed. He sat on the bed, his hand hovering over it, afraid to touch. She whimpered in her dreams.

Hans wondered if he still had the right to touch her after he had destroyed her, destroyed them all. His touch was poison.

Slowly, he eased his glove off his hand, tugging at the fingers. The other glove came off with equal deliberation, and he tucked them both into his pocket. Hans lay down carefully beside her.

Elsa’s lank hair hung into her eyes, and he reached forward to brush it away automatically. She was cold to the touch, but she sighed in her sleep when his fingertips made contact. Hans hesitated, but then cupped her face properly.

She muttered inaudibly, cracked lips moving. Thin fingers grabbed for his hand and clutched it; her face eased into a softer expression. Hans felt that familiar warm prickling from long ago again.

He left his hand there.


	4. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are not wrong, who deem  
> That my days have been a dream;  
> Yet if hope has flown away  
> In a night, or in a day,  
> In a vision, or in none,  
> Is it therefore the less gone?  
> All that we see or seem  
> Is but a dream within a dream.
> 
>  _A Dream Within A Dream_ \- Edgar Allan Poe

A book was in his lap, as had been his habit for years, but Hans’ attention was miles away. It was time for his visit, and he was almost looking forward to it. Much to his surprise, he almost missed Elsa. The sex had been amazing at the beginning, no doubt, and she had been an intelligent and charming beauty –

– not exactly. She was still a stunning beauty (even the madness couldn’t take that from her), but later, as she unraveled, she still had been beautiful to him.

He thought about that prickling in his chest that he’d experienced a few times. Maybe that was love. In spite of everything, he had managed to fall in love. A smile curled his lips. He had everything, and he had lost it all. He had given away nothing, and still managed to give her his heart.

If he hadn’t pushed her so hard, and she hadn’t been so fragile… Maybe things could have been different. Maybe he would still be king, and Elsa would be his queen, and they would have princes and princesses with his hair and her eyes –

It was all just conjecture. The opportunity was long gone, and all Hans had now were just the ghosts of future past.

He had failed. Perhaps he would always be the useless unlucky thirteenth.

A guard knocked on his door, and he glanced up, startled out of his thoughts. “Is it time already?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hans nodded. He let the guard lead him along the familiar path to Elsa’s room, where Queen Anna waited outside the door. Her auburn hair pulled back into a severe braided bun, her face was solemn as she glanced at him. There was white streaking her hair, and he remembered when he had asked her about that, when she had been too young. All traces of the girl she had once been were gone.

If it wasn’t for the auburn of her hair, he could have mistaken her for Elsa in her prime.

She acknowledged his bow with a stiff nod of her head, and glanced at the new-looking door. He stepped forward, knocking with a familiar cadence. “Elsa?”

“Come in,” said the voice from inside.

Hans paused, his hand on the handle. “Are you coming in?” he asked Anna.

“No. Not today.” She brushed back an invisible strand of hair from her immaculate coif, biting her lip. “I… I’ll wait here.”

Hans shrugged and opened the door.

Elsa sat on the windowseat, humming tonelessly to herself, her gloved hands folded neatly on her lap. In contrast to the immaculateness of her dress, her hair hung loose around her face.

“Didn’t you braid your hair today, Elsa?” he asked. He had to be gentle with her; Hans was in no mood to trigger one of her fits, and have Anna rush in to comfort Elsa – venting her rage and frustration on him afterwards. Kristoff never laid a hand on him, but he always watched, stony-faced, as his wife landed blow after blow on Hans.

The humming stopped, and she tilted her head to one side, fingering the long blonde tresses. “No, I guess I forgot.”

“Let me help you.” He retrieved a brush from her dresser, and sat behind her, combing out her hair. He was careful to work through it gently, brushing her scalp and earning small sounds of contentment from her.

“Do you even know how to braid?” asked Elsa. “Normally Mama does it for me.”

Hans’ fixed smile slipped a little at the edges. “I know how to braid.” He worked his fingers through the hair, gathering it into a bunch and then expertly dividing it into three equal tails. “Before I… became King, I used to be a sailor.”

“I see.” She sounded like either a very wise child, or a childish adult. He chose to think the former. “I think it’s very brave of you.”

“What, being a sailor?”

“Yes.” She glanced outside, where the sun shone in one of Arendelle’s rare summer days, and the ships were at anchor in the fjord. “The sea is treacherous.”  

“Only in storms, and we don’t sail in those when we can help it,” Hans said lightly, attempting to direct the conversation away from its path. “But there’s nothing better than the salty sea breeze, and the feeling of being surrounded by vast blue ocean.”

Elsa said nothing, and her shoulders began to shake. “Elsa,” said Hans quickly, grasping her shoulders, rubbing his thumbs over the bones, careful not to press too hard. “Are you alright?”

After a pause, she turned around. “I’m fine.” Her eyes stared uncertainly into his. “Hans, is something wrong? You look worried.”

His heart leapt that she had recognised him, that today was a good day and she was herself for the most part, and he would not have to deal with her moods. “Nothing’s wrong, dearest.” He gently pulled her into a hug, her frail body nestled in his lap. Elsa sighed softly and rested her head in the crook of his neck. “I’m happy to be here with you.”

She reached up, gently tugged at a lock of grey hair. “And you’ve gone prematurely grey.” Her fingers traced the lines of his face and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

“Governance,” said Hans, “is hard.”

Elsa chuffed a laugh. “So I’ve been told.”

“You, on the other hand,” he said, brushing her fringe from her eyes, “haven’t aged at all.” It was true, in a way; despite being too thin and with her blonde hair heavily mixed with white, when Elsa smiled, the years fell away.

“Nonsense. I’m already past thirty, surely there must be some signs. Mama used to have white hairs; she’d pluck them out early in the morning before Papa woke.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “If I did that, I’d be bald.”

She laughed again; although her eyes crinkled at the sides and her laughter was written into her face, to him, she was the same twenty-one-year-old woman he had seen at her coronation. It was a pity it had taken him years to realise that. “I think you’d look good even then,” she said eventually.

“So you’re not dumping me for a handsome young prince?”

Elsa pushed gently at his chest in mock annoyance. “Stop giving me ideas.”

Hans pressed a kiss to her forehead; she smiled up at him. “I won’t.”

They remained like that for a moment until Elsa’s body stiffened in his arms. “Where’s Anna?” she asked urgently.

His heart sank. “Elsa – ”

“I haven’t seen her in a while – where’s my sister?”

“Anna is fine, would you like to see her?”

The former queen shook her head violently. “No, I just need to know where she is. She’s plotting against me, I know it – I just need to keep an eye out, before she takes you from me.”

If he hadn’t been listening for it, Hans would have missed the muffled sob from outside the room.

“Anna would never do anything like that, Elsa. She’s your sister, she loves you.”

“You told me she couldn’t be trusted.”

“I only suspected it, my love. I was wrong. Anna thinks the world of you, she would never – ”

“You’re lying,” she insisted, pulling away from him so suddenly she nearly fell. Fear and anger vied for dominance in her cold blue stare. And Hans felt fear of his own, seeing the rampant insanity that unbalanced her, the wild unpredictability of a rudderless ship.

“Elsa,” he said, steel underlying his tone. “Calm down.” By now, he was quite immune to the snowstorms that accompanied her tantrums, and he stood firm through the biting winds.

“I thought I could trust you.” She wasn’t looking at him now, but past him, her horrorstruck eyes fixated by something only the former queen could see. “I trusted you, only you. I loved you.”

“You can trust me. I love you. I have not done anything to betray that trust.”

“I loved you,” she repeated, and made a choked sound. His hands hung motionless, filling the space between them.

“I still love you,” said Hans, and he knew it to be the first truth he had spoken in a long time.

Elsa opened her mouth and started to wail.

He left amidst her hysterical sobbing, and Anna was quick to round on him. “What did you do this time?” she hissed.

“Nothing, I – ”

She slapped him. He pressed a hand to the sore flesh and remained silent.

“You know I can’t believe a thing you say.”

“Then why ask?”

Anna bared her teeth in a snarl, and his head rocked to the left, then right. Dizzy with the force of her blows, he staggered back a step, flinging out both hands to steady himself.

“Your poisoned tongue is not welcome here, never again. I may have failed Elsa once, but I won’t ever do that again.”

Hans smirked at her, though the effect was marred by his swelling face. “A bit too late for that, especially since she won’t appreciate your efforts.”

“Shut up!” She struck him again, and again, and he doubled up as her foot connected with his midsection. Hans crumpled to the ground. “Get up,” she growled, nudging him hard until he scrambled upright.

“You took my innocence from me. You took my sister from me,” Anna growled. “You even murdered my son. I should kill you now and rid the world of a great evil, but that would be too easy. You’ll spend the rest of your miserable life atoning for your sins.”

“Mama?”

Both froze. “Lise,” said Anna, forcing a smile, stepping away from Hans. “What is it, sweetheart?”

The young girl’s gaze was surprisingly solemn for one so young. _Blue_ , thought Hans, _like the fjord. Like ice_.

_Like Elsa’s eyes._

“Mama, what are you doing?”

“Nothing. Hans and I were just talking.”

"Okay," said the princess matter-of-factly. Even though she was talking to her mother, Princess Lise continued to stare at Hans, who stared back at her even though his mind was elsewhere, thinking about the handful of tysbast he had been saving in his room.

Soon, he would have collected just enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did some of the names sound familiar? This was intended to be the darker version of [_Thaw_](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9983118/1/Thaw) (where Hans is truly irredeemable), and thus occurs in the mirror universe for that story. A little depressing, I know.

**Author's Note:**

> The Margaret the councilor refers to is Queen Margaret, Queen of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway (Queen Regnant in Denmark) and founder of the Kalmar Union under which these Scandinavian countries were united.


End file.
